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Unkel Jeffs keminiscences 
of Youtli 

And Other Poems 



By Thos. J. B. Rhoads, M. D. 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
fwu Copies rtdcejvbci 

FEB t3 1905 

„ Oooyrigiii -liitry 
'^i.tSS cu AXc. Moi 

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COPY U. * 






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Entered according to Act of Congress, in 1904, 

By Thos. J. B. Rhoads, M. D., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, 

Washington, D. C. 



WILLIAMSPORT, PA. 

PRESS OF FRED R. MILIFR 3LANH BOJK CO. 

19 4 



PREFACE 



luipressious made on the mind in childhood are apt to cling to us 
through life. True, in the transition to youth, and from youth to manhood 
and womanhood, these early impressions lie dormant as it were, covered 
over by the multitude of acts and scenes which crowd upon us in the rush 
and crush for advancement in maturer years ; but as time rolls on, as age 
advances, and we pass the meridian of this life, the acts and scenes that 
occupied our active brains in the hurry and excitement of the world gradu- 
ally vanish in the dim, distant past, while the impressions of childhood again 
loom up in our minds with astonishing vividness. The thick veil which had 
hidden them for years, during our period of activity, is lifted, and one by 
one the acts in the drama of life reappear in all their minutenes.s, casting a 
pleasurable radiance around us in our journey down life's declivity. Any 
little acts of kindness by some one ; any harsh treatment by another ; any 
incident or story related — all these again come up before us as in a kaleido- 
scope; the verj' words, the gestures, the time and circumstances connected 
therewith are there, as if photographed upon the brain, ready to spring forth 
at our bidding, and we need but the time and opportiinity to bring these 
hidden treasures into the light of the present day. Under such conditions 
the poem on Genovefa was produced. This household legend, which was 
related by the good old dames fifty to one hundred years ago, made .such a 
lasting impression upon the writer that he formed the story into a poem, as 
well for pleasurable occupation during the long winter evenings as for exer- 
cising his mind in that particular kind of literary work. He well remembers 
with what eagerness the youthful flock of brothers and sisters gathered 
around their mother's chair on some long winter evening to hear her relate 
the story of GENOVEFA. How eagerly they listened to catch every word 
that fell from their mother's lips, while relating the thrilling story ! How 
they pitied poor Schmerzenreich and Genovefa, and called forth dire 
vengeance on cruel Goi,o ! How in their sleep the story came up before 



them! Is it to be wondered at, then, that such scenes make a lasting im- 
pression on the tender mind of childhood which will cling to them through 
life? 

In offering this volume of poems to the mass of literature extant, it is 
done with the idea of filling in an intermediate space between the produc- 
tions of the world-renowued masters of practical composition, whose pro- 
ductions illumine the literary firmament with their effulgent light and carry 
the reader to giddy heights of imaginative fancy, and the other class of 
writers who are striving and struggling to gain notoriety in writing verse 
at a lower standard of valuation, if I may so express it ; writers who are 
novices in the art of versification, with swathes of clever composition 
amongst a mass of indifferent verse, often meaningless, strained and unnat- 
ural in sentiment and expression in order to find a suitable word to rhyme, 
at the expense of rhythm and sentiment. 

Being aware of the crucial test and searching criticism which an exact- 
ing public will pass upon these compositions, it is with feelings of trepida- 
tion that I launch this little bark of mine upon the sea of literature, and 
beg the reading public not to judge too severely nor criticise too harshly the 
merits of the contents of this volume. Should the readers of these poems 
derive an equal amount of pleasure and satisfaction in perusing as the writer 
found in composing them, the highest measure of his ambition will have 
been attained. 

Thos. J. B. Rhoads. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



A Badge for Every One of Us 



T^ROM Fiikien in China — land of pigtails and of queues, 

-*- Is wafted to America the sad, astounding news, 

That in that land of mysteries a factory was built 

And managed by officials who are adepts, and are skilled 

In sorting and preparing all the opium on hand 

The natives raise to be consumed in that benighted land. 

A government monopoly is sometimes a good thing, 
To fill the coffers of the state, all revenues to bring; 
There every opium smoker who the drug would like to try, 
From government oilficials first a proper badge must buy. 
These government officials wear a brass badge on the breast, 
A paper badge the gentry and a wooden badge the rest. 

The wearer's name is written on the badge, his age, address, 
The quantit}' that he may buy, to be no more nor less, 
As fixed by the officials, and said rule he must obey 
When coming for a fresh supply of opium day by day. 
Thus you see the revenue they have down to the dot, 
For every one that smokes the drug must pay it on the spot. 

Now what the Chinese people do might not concern us here 
On this side of the mammoth pond, upon this mundane sphere, 
But from this Chinese province they by hundreds emigrate 
Into the Philippines close by, where they accumulate 
In numbers undesirable the potent drug to smoke. 
No longer under Chinese rule nor under China's yoke. 



lo ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Now to control the habit the Manila papers say 

Our government should do it in a somewhat similar w^ay. 

A Democratic government, I think, should not dictate 

To any of its citizens what should be drank or ate; 

The people are the rulers in our Democratic form 

Of government, and all are bound its duties to perform. 

So if the opium smokers may be governed in this way, 

With logical consistency to others we may say: 

You must use this and eschew that, if you desire to be 

A citizen of this fair land, where every one is free ! 

Then where would be our liberty we proudly boast and sing, 

Until throughout this favored land the answering echoes ring ? 

The users of the drug cocaine, the morphine fiend as well ; 
The whiskey boys and beer sops would the list of badges swell. 
A new kind of distinction this upon the breasts to wear — 
The crosses, buttons, badges, pins on lapels placed with care ; 
The ribbons and insignias for every sort of crime 
Would hold a place conspicuous to keep us up to time. 

My ! how the breasts of some of us would dazzle and would shine 
With divers kinds of badges and with pins and ribbons fine ! 
Not meritorious badges, but insignias galore 
To tell of our wrong doings in those days that we deplore; 
The legends on each one of them would tell of devious ways 
To illustrate our social lives in former clouded days. 

Our politicians, great and small, our drug users as well, 

Would be tipped out in badges fine ! My ! how their breasts 

would swell ! 
The patent nostrum guzzlers, and our gamblers, drinkers too, 
Our advertising doctors, senators, eddyites a few. 
Would all be badged and labeled, yes, in a conspicuous place. 
That passing strangers might behold the folly of our ways. 

May 24, 1903. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A Brother's Treachery 



AN INDIAN LEGEND OF THE WEST 



TNT the far western wilds, on that spacious domain, 
-*- Dwelt a maiden, young, comely and fair; 
The "Pride of the Prairies" she roamed o'er the plain, 
While the winds fanned her dark, flowing hair. 

Two brothers laid claim to the young maiden's heart, 

And both tried to win the fair prize; 
Of these was the younger the choice, on her part — 

Found grace in the }'oung maiden's eyes. 

By some means the elder the prize at last won — 

B}^ intrigues not so clearly made known; 
At the close of the season the two were made one 

To their sorrow, as soon will be shown. 

In happiness quickly the winter passed by. 

Unmindful of storms or of snow; 
Secure in their wigwam, to each other nigh, 

They cared not for others' sad woe. 

Thus passed they the Winter. When Spring-time drew near 

The brothers decided to go 
To hunt on the prairie the elk and the deer, 

For their stock of provisions ran low. 

While strolling along where the clear water wore 

Through the rocks that impeded its flow, 
The elder one stopped, drew nigh, and peered o'er 

On the river, many fathoms below. 



ONKEL JEPT'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



In the morning sun glistened the clear, limpid stream, 

Through the canon where swiftly it sped, 
Where a bend in the stream caught the sun's brightest gleam 

Through the mists that arose from its bed. 

Enchanted, he stood on the canon's steep edge 

To peer through the mists which arose; 
Half way down the cliff he espied, on a ledge, 

A brood of young eagles repose. 

He called to his brother to come back and view, 
Who returned and looked down o'er the edge. 

He said to the other: "I know what I'll do; 
A rope I will make to that ledge." 

From the bark of young willows they plaited a rope 

The weight of a man to sustain, 
Then threw one end over the edge, with the hope 

The young eagles thus to obtain. 

But the rope fell far short of the coveted prize, 

So their work they still had to renew. 
Until it seemed plain, to their oft peering eyes. 

That it reached to the eyrie below. 

The rope round his body the elder secured. 

While the younger stood close to the edge; 
Thus carefully, hand over hand, him he lowered 

Until he was well on the ledge. 

While groping along, closely hugging the ledge. 

To obtain the much coveted prize. 
When tossed into space o'er the cliff's ragged edge 

The falling rope greeted his eyes. 

The treacherous brother thus hoped to destroy'- 
The one who had stood in his way. 



AND OTHER POEMS 13 



With the one who still loved him sweet bliss to enjo}^ 
And to bask in her smiles day by day. 

With presence of mind he then steadied himself, 

And caught the rope, pulling it in; 
Then stood there and pondered, on the rock's narrow shelf, 

To quell his emotions within. 

Five hundred feet up the bare cliff was the edge, 

With the river five hundred feet below; 
With no living thing but himself on the ledge 

Save the eaglets — poor comrades, you know. 

By and by the old eagles returned with their prey, 

And when the intruder the)^ spied, 
They first became hostile, then hastened away. 

When to the young eagles he hied. 

A part of the game which the eagles had brought 

He took from the nest where it la3^ 
Then crawled back again where his safety he sought 

Should the eagles return with more prey. 

Thus life was sustained by the eagles each day. 

Small hollows in the rocks, filled with rain, 
Served to moisten his tongue as the days passed away. 

And his hopes would renew once again. 

But the young eagles grew, and the time soon drew near 

When they would be ready to fly; 
Death stared in his face, and his soul filled with fear ; 

To save himself soon he must try. 

The rope he drew forth from the rocks where it lay 

In a cleft of the cliff's rocky face. 
Where the ra5^s of the sun could not dry it by day 

While protected it lay in its place. 



14 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Securely around his spare waist this he tied ; 

Each end to an eagle he bound ; 
Thus hoping, to fly when the young eagles tried, 

'Twould break his swift fall to the ground. 

When all was arranged, and his quiver and bow 

Securely were fixed on their place, 
With small hopes for life, and with heart beating low. 

He leaped from the cliff's rocky face. 

Down, down the deep canon they sped on that day, 

Half sustaining the man in their flight, 
When a tree at the bottom that stood in their way 

Caught their wings where they both could alight. 

From each of them took he a feather with care — 

Mementoes of the terrible flight; 
Then freed his preservers, who, beating the air. 

Soon flew to the cliff 's dizzy height. 

Through the branches he swung him.self down to the ground, 

Then took the nearest trail home; 
Together his wife and his brother he found, 

Both sitting outside at his home. 

It took but a moment an arrow to speed 

On its way to the heart of the one, 
Who, groaning and gasping, fell close to the feet 

Of the woman he doted upon. 

Confronting the woman who sat at the door 

Of his own — of his once happy home. 
While emotions were racking his whole body o'er. 

He said : "Are you glad I have come?" 

She made no reply, but her face plainly told 

That the truth she was loth to confess, — 
That her conscience was stricken with anguish untold, 

And pity she scarce could repress. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



She pitied the one, who, with fast fleeting breath, 

Was rapidly passing away, 
With his life oozing out in the last throes of death, 

Where, writhing and gasping, he lay. 

Yet dared she not venture to sooth with her love 

The one v/ho had foully betrayed 
The wife of his brother, for were she to move. 

An arrow would seal her own fate. 

The hope he had cherished her love to regain 

Was followed by anger and hate ; 
Her looks plainly showed that to him it was vain 

His affections again to reinstate. 

He took from his quiver the last arrow left, 

And bent, with a firm hand, the bow ; 
The arrow, like lightning, her guilty heart cleft, 

And she died with a groan deep and low. 

So quick were his movements they scarcely could know 

The one whom they counted as dead, 
Confronted them now, ere the death-dealing bow 

On their missions the arrows had sped. 

Dec. I, 1895. 



In the September number of "The Century" magazine, pages 692 and 
693, Alice C. Fletcher relates a well authenticated adventure that took 
place in the last century, which forms the basis of this poem. The writer 
has endeavored to follow the legend in prose as closely as practicable. 



i6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



A Family Gathering 



scene: RHOADS' HILI< above the RAII.ROAD 



FOND memories cling around the spot where in our youthful 
days 
We passed our time upon the farm in many pleasant ways, 
And, though at times the daily task seemed irksome to us all, 
The close of day brought sweet content to grown as well as small. 

When seated round the festive board well filled by mother's care. 
Assisted by the grown-up girls — her duties they would share, — 
Where steaming mush in spacious dish filled with aroma sweet 
The air within that happy home, where nightly we would meet, 

To quaff delicious cider from the mill when it was made. 
And apples ate from earthen dish before we went to bed ; 
To sleep the sleep of innocence, and pleasant dreams to dream, 
With naught to weigh upon our minds to change the pleasant 
theme. 

To gather winter apples from the orchards on tbe farm, 
Where they grew in profusion was enough us all to charm; 
The task was pleasant to us boys to climb up in the trees; 
The girls to pick them from the ground, in chilly, autumn breeze. 

Thus in our youth the time was passed, with plenty all around ; 
We boys up in the tree tops and the girls upon the ground. 
To pick the winter apples, and to store for winter use; 
The rest then into cider made, which no one would refuse. 



AND OTHER POEMS 17 



Though now grown old by weight of years, with hoary heads and 

gray, 
We met again on frowning hill upon a certain day 
The girls had fixed upon to pick the apples on the hill, 
And with the same from trees there found the wagon well to fill. 

The snows of many winters, aye, of three score years and ten. 
Had left white mantles on some brows, but they felt young again; 
They vied one with another each her basket first to fill 
From branches that were hanging low on trees upon the hill. 

There on a ladder brother Rube on tree-top could be seen, 
From spreading branches all around to pick the apples clean; 
Elizabeth, the oldest one, climbed way up on the hill. 
To view the landscape far beyond the town of Gabelsville. 

There Mary, fat and forty, with a firm, determined will, 
Had come to aid her mother, who was climbing up the hill. 
She got upon a ladder, which was far to frail and weak. 
From overhanging branches there the choicest fruit to seek. 

The ladder broke beneath her, but a branch caught in her hair 
Just where the bunch was tied behind, and held her captive there, 
And were it not for timely aid that came to her relief, 
She still might be a captive there, to her dismay and grief. 

There Annie, and there Sarah, too, both fat and plump and round. 
Among the pickers on the hill, with baskets filled, were found. 
Both Angeline and Kate were there to swell the happy throng; 
There Laura, and there Warren, too, to help the work along. 

Upon the wagon, up the hill, Kate took a jaunty ride, 

While clinging close, with deathlike grip, with Warren by her 

side; 
She was afraid I might upset, and trembled with affright; 
But as the teamster would not stop she could not well alight. 



i8 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

An apple that was dropping down, as red as any rose, 
In its descent from jutting branch struck close to Sarah's nose. 
Who had been blinded by the sweat that oozed from everj' pore, 
While she was waddling on the hill she ne'er had climbed before. 

Your humble serv'ant on the hill with "picker" one might see; 
Too ponderous by far was he to climb upon a tree. 
He had the docile team in charge along the hillside steep, 
Where sousing through the apple trees the storms of winter sweep. 

A rabbit from its hidden lair was roused when we drew nigh, 
Which record-breaking time then made to reach the woods close 

by, 
Then those who had been picking near were hunting all around 
To find its nest among the thorns and weeds where it was found. 

Then Laura, in her iinioceiice, most strenuous efforts made 
To ascertain how many eggs the cotton tail had laid; 
She took it for the "Oster Haas" she had been told about 
When she was young, which on that night most surely would 
be out. 

Thus passed the time most pleasantly until the trees were bare, 
Then carted to the plain below, where each one took a share; 
The apples were assorted there, each kind upon a heap. 
And these into six separate shares, to cart home and to keep. 

'Twas on October third that we had all assembled there 
To gather winter apples, and though sultry was the air. 
Each one felt happy, and we all enjoyed the fun once more — 
To gather winter apples as we did in daj'S of yore. 

Oct. 7th, 1900. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



An Amusing Lpisode During a Fourth of July 
Oration at Boyerstedle in 1818. 



AFTER the battle of New Orleans, 
Where Jackson, with his men, 
Baptized the British hosts in blood, 

On spacious level plain, 
Many companies of volunteers 

Were formed throughout the land, 
To be prepared to lend their aid. 
Should emergency demand. 

'Twas then that men from Colebrookdale 

And the surrounding parts, 
Formed themselves into a company. 

Under the name of "Colebrookdale Guards." 
These were supplied with muskets, 

And received equipments free, 
A few weeks prior to the date 

Of our national jubilee. 

The news soon spread for miles around 

That equipments had arrived, 
That on the Fourth a jubilee 

The soldiers had contrived 
To hold, to which both young and old 

Were invited to attend. 
And with the soldiers and "the boys," 

A pleasant day to spend. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



All the yoeiiien of the country, 

For many miles around, 
With their wives, and sons, and daughters, 

Were early on the ground; 
The mothers with the babies, 

In their strong and sunburnt arms — 
No fancy carriages then had they 

To add to babj^'s charms. 

Thus they came from all directions, 

Each one eager to behold 
The volunteers with "Flint-locks," 

And accoutrements of old. 
As they drilled, and then paraded 

Through the streets of Boyertown, 
Or to listen to orations 

By some speakers of renown. 

The place that was selected 

To erect the speakers' stand, 
Was beneath a spacious hickory tree 

That then stood close to hand. 
Where D. S. Erb's large factory, 

Three stories high is reared — 
'Twas there beneath that stately tree 

The speakers' stand appeared. 

'Twas but an empty hogshead. 

That molasses had contained, 
On which the speaker took his stand, 

And the crowd then entertained. 
He praised, in words of eloquence, 

Our country, and its laws; 
And the natal day we celebrate — 

Its object and its cause. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



How we sprung into existence, 

And how we waxed and grew 
Into a nation sturdy, strong, 

And the British host o'erthrew; 
How we gained our independence, 

Through the prowess and the skill 
Of our forces under Washington, 

Who fought and shot to kill. 

Excited by his eloquence. 

The speker stamped and raved. 
And shouted in a tenor key: 

"Thus they our country saved; 
They fought and died that we might this 

Inheritance enjoy. 
To guard against a common foe 

Let us ourselves employ." 

"Those men are gone, for yet awhile 

I with you may remain; 
But soon the time for me will come — 

Tho' we shall meet again." 
Then suddenly the head fell in — 

The head on which he stood, 
And down went speaker, speech and all, 

With a crash and heavy thud. 

The soldiers cheered, the ladies shrieked. 

And laughter filled the air, 
While there the speaker rose dismayed, 

With molasses in his hair. 
To extricate himself alone 

From this predicament 
He failed, when others standing near, 

To his assistance went. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



"Oh, dunner!" Henry Boyer said, 

"Elir kann sich jo net helfe, 
Ich denk mer misse anne geli 

Un misse den kerl 'raus helfe." 
Then leaned the hogshead to one side 

And seized him by the cuff. 
And dragged him forth besmeared all o'er 

With the sweet and sticky stuif. 

This ended all his eloquence, 

And speeches for the day; 
Disgusted with this great mishap, 

He hied himself away, 
And nevermore appeared again 

On that eventful day. 
Until the day was ended. 

And the folks had gone away. 

Boyertown, June 27th, 1892. 




The above incident was an actual occurrence that happened to a Fourth 
of July speaker in this town about the year 1818. The occasion, as stated, 
was to celebrate the arrival of the muskets and equipments for the "Cole- 
brookdale Guards," then a newly organized military company', consisting at 
one time of 105 able bodied men. The Company was made up of such men 
as the Rhoads', Boyers, Schaeffers, Guldins, Stauffers — in fact nearly all the 
families residing in the vicinity at the time, were represented in the com- 
pany. The speaker's name is well known by tradition, the persons then 
living having nearly all passed away, but the incident has often been related 
to the younger people, and thus handed from generation to generation. 



AND OTHER POEMS 23 



A Lover's Predicament 



npHE story that I now will tell, 
-^ Some ardent lover once befell, 
Who to his sweetheart did repair 
One Sunday night, with haiightj' air; 
And well he might, for on his head 
A new silk tile, to order made. 
Of Daniel Bo3'er's best, reposed, 
That many a raven lock enclosed. 

A bran new suit of Beaver's make — 
Expressly for his maiden's sake, 
Cut in the latest style of art — 
A master- piece on Beaver's part, 
Enclosed his form so lithe and gay 
While on he strutted on his way. 

A pair of boots adorned his feet 
When on the waj- his girl to meet; 
To make a fit John Feglej^ tried, 
And all the cobbler's arts applied; 
But be it said, they were too small 
To cover corns and bunions all. 

But nothing daunted, on he strode 
Past Limetown, where his love abode, 
While fraught with pain each step was made 
Until he reached his sweetheart's gate; 
But now his pain was not appeased, 
While swelling of his feet increased. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



No longer to endure the pain, 

He doffed his boots with might and main. 

The night was warm, and sultry, too; 

So, scarcely knowing what to do. 

He laid his coat and vest aside, 

And hastened to his sweetheart's side. 

Thus passed the hours in perfect bliss, 
With many a hug and many a kiss, 
Oblivious of the hours that sped, 
While all around were snug in bed. 

Hark ! what was that? A rumbling sound 
Came from the west in tones profound! 
A thunder storm was forming there, 
While denser grew the sultry air. 

Then preparations were begun 
His homeward way to hasten on; 
His boots were tried, but they in vain 
Would fit his swollen feet again. 

Here was a sore predicament, 
And no amount of worriment 
Would mend the matter for him then; 
But go he must, for it seemed plain 
That he must go in stocking feet 
Upon the dusty, stony street. 

A hasty farewell then was said. 
Then noiselessly he onward sped. 
But now the house dog, on the sly, 
Raised up a loud and wicked cry. 
Each farmer's dog along the road 



AND OTHER POEMS 25 



Took up the cry as on he strode 
Along the rough and stonj^ street, 
With cotton socks upon his feet; 
And when he struck some hidden stone 
It seemed as though the clouded moon 
Would taunt him in his misery. 

While broken clouds moved swiftly by 
The laughing moon, with winking eye. 
Showed where the dust lay deepest spread 
For stocking feet with tender tread. 

The lightning flashes in the west 
Showed where his coat and faultless vest 
Hung from his arm as on he sped 
With hurried, though with cautious tread. 

The stones shied at the 3'elping curs 
Still seemed to make the matter worse; 
Adjacent farms their quota sent 
Of hounds and curs on mischief bent, 
And as he hastened, homeward bound, 
Each barking cur and baying hound 
Revealed the route the lover took 
As from his feet the dust he shook. 

Oh, how he wished for wings to fly, 
That he might then the fates defy; 
But still the storm came on apace 
And fast was gaining in the race; 
Then soon the scattered raindrops fell 
The drenching shower to foretell; 
While yet, with all his might and main, 
He strove some shelter to obtain. 



26 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

A stump now marks the place where stood 
A spacious oak with tortuous root, 
Close to the California mine, 
Where iron ore and rocks combine; 
Here in his haste he shelter found 
Beneath that oak, while cur and hound 
Forsook him in his forlorn state, 
While here the lover had to wait 
Until the storm was wafted by. 

While now the morning tints the sky. 

Illumined with a crimson red, 

When up through town the lover sped 

O'er cobble stones and drifted sands, 

Through softened mud, with ruined pants. 

Imagining each step he made, 

Some pretty girl or peeping maid 

Was watching him upon the sly 

From windows that he ambled by. 

The barnyard rooster loudly crowed 
When to his domicile he strode — 
A mud-bedraggled, forlorn elf, 
A semblance scarce of former self. 

And when he took a stock account 
A ruined stovepipe hat was foimd; 
A damaged suit of Sunday clothes; 
A pair of socks, through which the toes 
Protruded where the rents were made 
When on his homeward promenade. 

A wiser man he proved to be 
When next his girl he went to see; 
A pair of boots of larger size 



AND OTHER POEMS 27 



Attracted his fair lady's eyes; 

Then, at a seasonable hour, 

He left his lady's fragrant bower, 

Nor feared he more of watching eyes, 

Nor thunder storms, nor threatening skies. 



Oct. II, 1894. 



Anarchists — The Remedy 



WE boast of this land as the home of the brave, 
The land of the free, where w^e harbor the knave. 
That crosses the ocean to make this his home, 
Our laws to defy — for such have we no room. 

All foreigners with unpronouncable names 
That come to this land with their children and dames, 
To make this their home, should abide by our laws. 
Or should be transported, for any slim cause. 

To some far-off island where torrid winds sweep, 
Surrounded by water a thousand feet deep, 
A thousand miles distant from any known land — 
There let us transport the whole anarchist band. 

There let them abide, and if they must needs kill, 
On anarchists only they could try their skill 
With pistol, stiletto, or dynamite bomb, 
And vSend them to Hades — or else kingdom come. 

If we have no statutes that cover the bill 
To transport offenders who menace to kill. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Let Congress make haste to enact needed laws 
To transport all foes of this country for cause. 

So long as one anarchist roams o'er this land 
No one will be safe from his treacherous hand; 
Who'll be the next victim the anarchists know; 
Some well paid assassin will strike the next blow. 

The whole nation mourns o'er the loss of our Chief ; 
The widow is wailing, and great is her grief, 
Because one assassin, with pistol in hand, 
Has murdered the head of this prosperous land. 

We boast of free press, and we boast of free speech, 
But let us no longer such sentiments preach; 
Sedition is rampant all over this land, 
Which should be put down with an unsparing hand. 

Wipe out from this country the anarchist breed; 
Suppress all the papers that foster their creed; 
Transport them at once to some isle in the sea, 
Away from the rest of the world let them be 

To practice their creed to their own heart's content. 
With pistol or bomb, or foul murder intent; 
And thus in a slow, but a gradual way, 
The anarchist faction would all pass away. 

Sept. 20, 1 90 1. 



AND OTHER POEMS 29 



An Old Boyertown Character Portrayed 



WHEN I was an urchin — a flaxen-haired boy, 
There was an old maid in my father's employ 
Who handled the sickle, could cradle and bind 
As well as the nimblest young man you could find. 

To work on the farm was her constant delight, 

When the grass was still wet with the dews of the night, 

Until the cool shades of the evening appeared 

And the sun in the West in the clouds disappeared. 

In corn-planting time, in the spring of the year, 
This woman with hoe on the scene would appear, 
And hoe her own row from beginning to end, 
With plenty of time to assist a near friend. 

In the field with the reapers — a jolly old band — 
She joined with the men and could make a full hand 
In reaping the grain through the spacious domain. 
While on the way back each would bind their own grain. 

As then was the custom on farms hereabout, 
Of good apple whisky no farm was without; 
When the jug passed around this lass never refused. 
For to have an occasional sip all were used. 

When at the black bottle she took a "long pull," 
It happened sometimes that she got "rather full" 
She then was loquacious, and oftentimes swore 
lyike a trooper, as bravely her hardships she bore. 



30 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

She was a great smoker and chewed the rank weed, 
And a "duwack" would beg if a friend she would meet; 
This she relished much better than both you and I, 
And managed to keep a good stock in supply. 

When speaking she could not articulate well, 

But what was the reason I never could tell; 

vSome said she was "tongue-tied, " which might have been so; 

She could not pronounce many words, that I know. 

All house work she shunned, as it would not agree 
With her taste and her fancy — she'd rather be free 
From the cares of the household. She rather would work 
On the farm at hard labor, and sweat like a Turk. 

All kinds of hard labor she gladly would do — 
Much better than fancy work, knit, or else sew; 
And in her rude actions and masculine ways 
She seemed an enigma to me in those days. 

Being now no more able to work by the da}^ 
As age came upon her she drifted away 
To her kindred, who kindly provided a home 
Where she to remain would be welcome to come. 

There she dwelt manj^ j^ears, soon forgotten by all 
Those who toiled with this woman from Spring until Fall; 
Then, like a mere shadow, she again reappeared 
Amongst the scenes of her labors, to her still endeared. 

Bowed down with old age, poor, decrepit and lame. 
With a damsel for escort, this old woman came 
To the friends of her youth to behold them once more, 
And of them to seek aid to replenish her store. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



One could judge, from the raiment and hood that she wore, 
That her wardrobe was empty — no garments in store; 
While her thin, shrunken face, truthful evidence bore 
That the wolf, gaunt and hungry, was now at her door. 

How changed was her conduct! One scarce could believe, 
(Though outward appearances sometimes deceive); 
Her language and manners were now quite subdued, 
And her thoughts with religious impressions imbued. 

This change had come o'er her when able no more 
To follow the life she had long led before; 
P^or the sands of her life were now ebbing and low, 
And the night was approaching on her scene here below. 

But the change in her features, now furrowed and seared, 
Were not as well marked as her conduct appeared; 
Her language more chaste and her conduct more kind, 
Showed a change in her heart and a change in her mind. 

On those who her alms had in charity given, 

She called forth a blessing, with reverence, from heaven; 

Then wended her way with her staff by her side, 

A pilgrim so weary, so humbled in pride. 

The sheaves she had gathered and garnered of yore. 
To fill and replenish the farmers' rich store, 
In her were a type of the Saviour's great love, 
When we would be gathered and garnered above. 

Boyertown, Oct. 22, 1891. 



The above is a true and faithful delineation of the character of a well- 
known woman who daily toiled on the farms in this vicinity some thirty to 
forty years ago. Many of our older people will no doubt remember her and 
will readily supply the name. Can you guess it? 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



An Old Time Battalion 



THERE are many still living, now grown old and gray, 
Who took active part in the scenes of the day. 
When battalions were held by the bold volunteers, 
Who assembled for practice in long by- gone years. 

Half a century ago — it was the custom then 
To meet twice a year on some suitable plain. 
To drill and manoeuvre in martial array, 
By volunteer companies in uniforms gay. 

How our hearts leaped for joy when the beat of the drum 
Announced to us boys that the soldiers had come! 
How the soul-stirring strains of the shrill "zwerg pfeife" 
Aroused in us urchins such patriot life ! 

And the banners that waved o'er the heads of the men, 
As they took their position in the line on the plain, 
Filled our souls with delight, as we witnessed the scene. 
Of the soldier boys marching down the fields fresh and green. 

How for months after battalion day the drum we would beat. 
On an improvised kettle, as we marched down the street; 
When a few willow pipes took the place of a fife. 
To stir up our spirits and awaken new life. 

Ah ! distinctly I yet hear the old cannon boom, 

On some morning in May, when the flowers were in bloom, 

To usher in the day for the martial display 

By the bold volunteers, in their uniforms ga3\ 



AND OTHER POEMS 33 



Their cocked hats I see again, Napoleon style, 
As the troops passed our homestead, in grand doubled file; 
And the beautiful plumes of the red, white and blue, 
By the Boyertown Grays in their uniforms new. 

Henry Schaeffer commanded the Oley Line Troop, 
Which formed on the field an inspiring group, 
As they swung in full gallop round a centre, in line. 
Enclosing their captain in discipline fine. 

A voice like a lion the captain possessed 

When he marshalled the troopers, or he them addressed; 

And when he was drilling his valiant men. 

For a mile, if not more, you could hear this old Hen. 

For three years George Yorgey was corporal then — 
He served in the Ole)' Line Troop under Hen; 
As Brigade Inspector Jerry Schappel then ruled — 
In manoeuvres and tactics the same was well schooled. 

Old women and men with their staff by their side, 
Ambled along in their efforts to keep up with the tide 
That was constantly moving, in a stream, on its way 
To the place for battalion, to see the display. 

Black Pete and Dan Clymer and Andreas were there — 
Of rot-gut and whiskey they got their full share; 
While all the old topers, from far and from near, 
To see the battalion were on hand every j-ear. 

There whiskey flowed freely at three cents a glass, 

To pay for which fips and old levies would pass; 

Ten drinks for a quarter was always the rule; 

When a gill was a drink, then how could they keep cool? 



34 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Some got drunk before dinner and then went to grass — 
To sleep off their stupor, the day thus to pass; 
While others kept drinking and dancing away — 
Half drunk and half sober they thus passed the day. 

If some had a grievance or grudge to decide, 

In patience and silence the time the'd abide 

Until once the day for battalion came around, 

When with their bare knuckles each other they'd pound. 

If two got to fighting 'twas best to keep clear; 
Fair play was the watchword — none dared interfere; 
If one made an effort his friend to assist, 
A dozen were ready such aid to resist. 

Some eyes were in mourning soon after the fight; 
Some eyelids were swollen, and others closed quite; 
Next day they presented a dark, sombre hue — 
In common parlance they were called "black and blue." 

Bill DeTurck was on hand with his cups and his dice, 
The dollars and dimes from the men to entice; 
And many a man, in his efforts to win. 
By this lawless old trickster was sadly roped in. 

The sutlers were doing a very brisk trade, 
With their honey cakes, candy and fresh lemonade; 
The folks from the country all patronized these. 
Munching peanuts and pretzels and Limberger cheese. 

John Egolf and Koder, a grudge to decide, 
Near where stood a sutler's stand, started to fight. 
And in their gyrations got under the same. 
With Egolf on Koder. But Koder was game. 



AND OTHER POEMS 35 



In the struggle that followed, the table upset, 
Which scattered the wares of the sutler, you bet. 
There were mintsticks, and honey cakes, lemonade sweet; 
Ginger cakes, home-made beer, all in the street. 

But this did not hinder the men in the least, 
For with this great racket their ardor increased; 
Then Koder, on top, got in his best blows. 
Banging the eyes of old Egolf and smashing his nose. 

The booming of cannon was kept up all day, 
By old reckless men, who were blazing away — 
Reloaded and fired them, shot after shot. 
Regardless of danger when guns became hot. 

In this way Phil Wartman, the gunner, was killed, 
With a man at the touch-hole untrained and unskilled. 
Jake Decker was killed in the very same wa}', 
At New Hanover Square, on battalion da3^ 

Ab. Heller, the fiddler, with his old violin, 
The quarters and halves of the dancers roped in 
Tom Levengood, also, kept scraping away 
On a screechy old fiddle, for dancers, all da3^ 

Jake Boyer commanded the Boyertown Grab's; 
A captain was he, somewhat loose in his ways. 
He sometimes had most too much liquor on board, 
And then he the rules of decorum ignored. 

One day he was forming his forces to drill, 
In an uneven field at the slope of a hill; 
"Fall in, fall in line!" with stentorian voice. 
He gave the command to the bold soldier boys. 



36 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

One soldier was drunk and unable to stand, 
But he tried to respond to the captain's command. 
With zig-zag manoeuvres he got into line, 
But, unable to stand, he fell backwards supine. 

"Dunder und blitz!" roared the captain, "what the deuce are 

)'ou about ? 
I said 'Fall in line,' but I see you fall out." 
Like a man badly wounded the volunteer lay, 
No more to take part in the drills of the day. 

The line formed, and then with sword drawn and raised, 
"Forward, march!" said the captain, as backwards he paced, 
When all of a sudden his heel struck a stone, 
Which doubled him up like the man in the moon. 

Those were glorious times, when these valiant men 
Assembled to drill on some grass-covered plain, 
On some beautiful day in the month of sweet May, 
In their gaudy equipments in martial array. 

Those times are now past, and we hear now no more 
The booming of guns as we heard them of yore; 
Those men are now dropping, like leaves in the Fall ; 
They fall into line at the Saviour's roll call. 

Boyertown, June 28, 1892. 



AND OTHER POEMS 37 



Another Leak 



THERE is a small leak in the life 
Of many a man in our day 
That oft brings contention and strife, 
And causes distress in some way. 

It flares the excitable brain ; 

It is the forerunner of crime, 
And leaves vain regrets in its train 

To thousands of men in our time. 

Where want and where poverty reign — 
Where children are crying for bread — 

There's often a serious drain 
In the life of the family head. 

To find what this small leak can be, 

Then take a short stroll through the town 

And count the stout beer kegs you see, 
All empty, and piled up and down. 

They're there that the people may know 
Where beer can be found on the tap, 

All empty and stacked in a row, 

To catch the quick eye of some chap. 

The one with the largest display 
Of empty kegs scattered around 

Shows HB is the boss of the day; 

It shows where the tipplers are found. 



38 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Those kegs did not leak, I dare say, 
To let the good beer go to waste; 

To save it from ruuning away 
The}"^ all make inordinate haste. 

Some laboring men, year by year. 
When starting to work for the day. 

Will pour down a ' 'schooner' ' of beer 
To help them along on the way. 

At noon, in the heat of the day. 
They hasten to have a fresh glass 

Of "lager' ' to flush out the way 
That "wittles" may readily pass. 

Then, when on the way to the shop, 
They stop in to wash the same down 

With a "schooner" of lager on top, 
And leave for their work in the town. 

As slowly the minutes will pass, 

When through with their work for the day, 

They stop in to take a good glass. 

Then homeward they hie on their way. 

Too lonely the evening to spend 
At home, by their own fireside, 

Then timely their way they will wend 
To saloons where their comrades abide. 



There games for the "drinks" they will play 
As quickly the moments will fly, 

Then, beer-soaked, they amble away — 
To reach their homes safely they hie. 



AND OTHER POEMS 39 



'Tis such who are always in debt — 
Who are alwa^'S behind with their rent; 

They work for the money they get, 
Which mostlj' for liquor is spent. 

When sickness o'ertakes them, then, lo! 

The doctor must come with his pills 
To rouse up the liver so slow. 

The butcher, the grocer, the miller. 
The doctor, the landlord, the tailor, 

The merchant, the druggist, the shoeman- 
All these will be stuck with their bills. 

This touches a delicate spot 

In some that I know in this town; 

It cuts like a sword to the dot. 

And doubtless will call curses down 

Upon me for being thus bold 

In exposing the terrible drain 
To the purse of the young and the old, 

And the ruin it leaves in its train 

Of poverty hovering round 

Where rules the insatiate thirst; 

Where cold, empt}^ larders are found, 
(For such bills are always paid first.) 

Of the anxious wife waiting at night 
To hear of her husband's return 

Befuddled, and in a sad plight, 

When others his presence would spurn. 

When I leaf through my ledgers of 3'ore 
And note where the bills are unpaid. 



40 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Long columns I find, by the score, 
To pay which no efforts were made. 

I find, in most cases, these men 

Who neglect to square up their accounts 

Are such who the beer kegs will drain — 
'Tis there where the little leak counts. 

'Tis these who are always behind — 
Who never can square up their bills, 

And when they see "snakes" then we find 
The doctor must combat their ills. 

But should you refuse to comply 
To give the relief which they crave, 

They'll raise up a hue and a cry, 
And call you a heartless old knave. 

Collections are lifted to raise 

A fund, pressing needs to supply, 

While they, in their dissipate ways 
Keep on — to reform never tr5\ 

The beer kegs still come, and they go. 
They're stacked in the yard by the score ; 

They are just piled up there for show — 
To urge them to tipple still more. 

Just as the years come so they go, 
With thirst ever on the increase, 

'Till life blood no longer can flow — 

When weakened heart's throbbings will cease. 



Jan. 24, 1904. 



AND OTHER POEMS 41 



A Poem on Cattle Ranches 



4tOAY, Fanny dear, and did you hear 

^^ The news that's going round," 
That in this State of William Penn 

So man}' men are found 
Who listen to all strangers 

That may come within their gate, 
With good address and oily tongue 

Of cattle ranch to prate ? 

The writer had occasion 

Just a few short months ago 
To sell some Hook and Ladder Bonds, 

As some of you may know; 
These are a safe investment 

On a building here in town. 
And are secured by mortgage 

Which to all was clearly shown. 

Some said they had no money 

Lying idle to invest. 
I knew that they were lying, 

But I passed on to the rest 
And sold the bonds to others 

Who were anxious to secure 
A five per cent, investment. 

With the monev safe and sure. 



42 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

But when this glib-tongued cattle man 

Talks ranch stock in their ears 
They bite like hungry suckers 

When the angle worm appears. 
They will not even hesitate 

To take all they can buy; 
Some even give exemption notes 

Their luck in stock to try. 

I hope that after many days 

Their money may come back 
In fat and handsome dividends — 

That none of it may lack; 
For surely I'd regret to see 

This money go amuck 
Out in those cattle ranches, 

And all owing to bad luck. 

They tell me that it seldom rains 

Out in that land so drear, 
Except, perhaps, some thunder storm 

That strikes them once a year. 
That when it rains the grass will die — 

It withers in a day; 
On this the herds of cattle browse 

And gulp it down like hay. 

They say this builds up tissue ! 

While they all get sleek and fat. 
Say, farmers of this State of Penn, 

What do you think of that ? 
Would you expect to fatten stock 

On nothing but dead grass ? 
And if you'd want to sell it 

Do you think such stock would pass ? 



AND OTHER POEMS 43 



You keep yours housed in warm, large barns, 

With all the care you can, 
And feed them well on chops and corn, 

And seasoned hay and bran. 
Those cattle on the ranches 

Roam about the whole j^ear round, 
And when a blizzard strikes them 

In the open they are found. 

They say they are protected 

By the mountains from the storm; 
That in the fertile valleys 

They can manage to keep warm. 
Have you not read quite lately 

Of a blizzard they had there, 
When cattle starv^ed by thousands 

In that cold and piercing air? 

When everything was snow-bound 

With two feet or more of snow; 
With ten feet snow drifts here and there 

Where could the cattle go ? 
The poor beasts had to suffer. 

For no dead grass was in sight; 
To still the pangs of hunger 

They were in a sorry plight. 

To rid them of their misery 

The cow-boys got their guns 
And shot them by the thousand — 

All the old and feeble ones, 
To save the hides upon them 

And prevent a total loss, 
Which would no doubt be sanctioned 

By their skillful cattle boss. 



44 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Of course this takes the profit 

From the shares the people buy, 
And if they get no dividends 

So what's the use to cry ? 
The willing dupes that have been caught 

Should surely not complain 
If dividends should fail to come 

From lands that get no rain. 

The people who have not been caught 

Will not be apt to weep 
If money thus invested 

Should be lost at one fell sweep; 
Or if they get big dividends 

Upon the stock they bought, 
We'll all be glad and will rejoice 

That we have not been caught. 

To pay big prices for such stock 

Two thousand miles away 
And trust to luck to get it back 

At some far distant day 
Is risky, and the chances are 

To get it back again 
They'll be turned loose to ruminate 

On dead grass on the plain. 

The cattle ranch is dotted 

With the carcasses of those 
Which starved, or else were frozen 

Through the blizzards and the snows; 
A bone mill would be just the thing 

Big dividends to yield — 
To grind those into bone dust 

Which lie scattered o'er the field. 



AND OTHER POEMS 45 



Do 3^011 believe our millionaires 

Would sit at ease and wait 
To see the cattle ranchmen 

Gobble up such easy bait ? 
Why, sir, they'd buy up every ranch 

Upon this wide domain, 
And pick up all the profits 

To increase their worldly gain. 

They would not send an agent 

With an oily tongue down east, 
To Pennsylvania Dutchmen, 

To share in this money feast. 
No, riot a blessed share they'd sell, 

But clutch it good and tight ; 
No outside ones would get a smell. 

Nor even get in sight. 



March 9, 1903. 



A Rural Kitchen 5cene of Fifty-Five 

Years Ago 



FOND memories cling around this spot as I behold once more 
My parents and my sisters toil upon the oaken floor; 
Behind the stove sits father, with his pipe of bak-ed clay; 
He is talking and is smoking as he passes time away. 

I hear his tattoo sounding on the window ledge once more, 
And his brogans loudly thumping on the white and oaken floor; 
I hear him softly whistling, as he often did of yore. 
Keeping rhythm with the music with his feet upon the floor. 



46 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

I see the milk-pots standing on the mantle near the stove, 
With the snow-white linen covers and the shingles yet above; 
And on these I see the cheeses, like a cone in shape and form — 
They are placed there on the mantle- place to keep them nice and 
warm. 

By the table sits my mother, with her fair and lovely face, 
In her cap of finest linen trimmed around with snowy lace. 
There, on the shelf, a bottle with the syrup that she boiled — 
To cure us of our colds and coughs she struggled and she toiled. 

There is the old milk closet standing up against the wall, 
With its pots of liquid treasures — yes, I think I see them all. 
Behind the table, on a bench, myself and sisters there 
Are busied with our studies and our lessons to prepare. 

I see my older sisters, four, each at a spinning w^ieel, 
With a foot upon the treadle fast to turn around the wheel; 
I hear the spindles humming as they rapidly revolve, 
While the fingers, gliding up and down, this spinning problem 
solve. 

There, on the table, stands the lamp wdth oil and wick aglow, 

Which barely gives sufficient light to spinners in a row. 

I see my mother sitting with the cap upon her head. 

And I hear the reel now clicking as she winds the flaxen thread, 

While the constant thump of treadles and the humming of each 

wheel 
Keep time in pleasing cadence to the clicking of the reel. 
Thus they toiled and spun each season until Candlemas drew near, 
When the spinning wheels were hustled to the garret till next 

year. 

Bojertown, Dec. i8, 1891. 



AND OTHER POEMS 47 



Be Charitable 



OUR open actions all can see, 
But none our secret thoughts can trace; 
Our alms dispensed in charity 
Will oft elicit others' praise. 

'Tis right that those with means possess'd 
Should freely give to those in need; 
Should aid the widows and distressed, 
And all the wants of orphans meet. 

To children, who by death bereft 
Of father and of mother dear, 
Remember that to you is left 
The task to comfort and to cheer. 

But charity does not consist 
In giving alms, and alms alone; 
Some wayward youth you may assist 
To tread aright life's stepping stone. 

What need of alms to erring youth ? 
Or ducats to the wayward son ? 
Such charity will but in truth 
His footsteps hell- ward hasten on. 

'Twill fan the flame already bright — 
Still hasten on his downward course; 
Extinguish the last ray of light, 
And render his condition worse. 



48 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Far better to him friendship's hand, 
Extended in his sore distress, 
Than silver bright or golden sand, 
Which but will hasten his disgrace. 

Some cherished friend may stay the hand 
That fain w'ld draw life's crimson stain; 
Some kindly act, at your command. 
May calm and soothe the fevered brain. 

In yon home and family circle 
Let true charity prevail; 
Let the wreath of love encircle 
All those who at times may fail. 

In your kindly ministrations, 
When the proper time shall come. 
Remember in your dispensations 
True charity begins at home. 



Be Contented 



BE contented with your calling. 
Whatsoever it may be; 
Hurricanes and storms appalling 
Cannot raise well rooted tree. 

Every trade and all professions 
Have their dark and sunny side. 

Every workman his oppressions. 
And his pleasant days beside. 



AND OTHER POEMS 49 



As the dark and gloomy night is 
Followed by resplendent day, 

So our woes and our afflictions 
Shall in jo 5^ all pass away. 

Tho' our cares seem sad and grievous, 
And our troubles hard to bear, 

Brighter days will soon relieve us — 
Let this be our constant cheer. 

In reverses and in sorrow 
Let this always be our lay: — 

"Darkest night has brightest morrow, 
So shall sadness pass away." 



Bear Your Burdens Lightly 



npRY to bear your burden lightly, 
-*- Whatsoever it may be ; 
For no task will seem too irksome 
If you do it cheerfully. 

Have you suffered sore affliction 
In the death of some dear one ? 

Try to bear your burden meekly — 
Christ is left to lean upon. 

He can temper your affliction; 

He can mitigate your woe; 
He will be a close companion 

While you tarry here below. 



50 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Have you met with great reverses 

In a monetary way ? 
You may yet retrieve your fortune 

If you struggle day by day. 

Do not fret about such losses, 

Which may come to all some day; 

With a will to do your duty 
There will always be a way. 

Have you met with disappointments 
In your dealings with mankind — 

Of some promise rudely broken 
To exasperate the mind ? 

Hold your censure in abeyance ; 

Keep your rising temper down ; 
There may be some valid reason 

Why — then do not fret or frown. 

Should some accident befall you, 
Or if you should break a bone, 

Try to bear your burden lightly, 
For you will not be alone. 

You know accidents will happen 
When you least expect them to ; 

Others may be killed or mangled, 
Or be crippled worse than you. 

Some weak persons lose their reason 
Through excitement of the mind, 

Who will wail, and fret, and worry, 
Who no solace here can find. 



AND OTHER POEMS 51 



June 9, 1904. 



Some imaginary evil 

Always looms before the eyes 
Which they magnify to momitains — 

Such a course is quite unwise. 

Would those bear their burdens lightly, 
And would banish their vague fears, 

It would give them peace and comfort 
And would lengthen out their years. 

Try to bear your burden lightlj'; 

Never yield up to despair. 
For you know the sun shines brightest 

After rains have cleared the air. 

So your troubles, too, will vanish 
If you keep a cheerful heart ; 

Bear up bravely in afflictions 
And your troubles will depart. 



Be Diligent 



A LAW universal, as proved through the ages, 
-^"^ Confronts us in waging the battles of life ; 
In scanning the columns of History's pages 
In proof of this mandate these pages are rife. 
This law is revealed as the mind is expanding ; 
It shows how impossible it is to attain 
Success in this life, and a good moral standing 
Amongst those whose friendship you wish to obtain, 
Without constant effort, and pushing, and striving 
By all honest means, if j^ou wish to be thriving. 



52 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Good character, influence, wealth and position, 
And power and knowledge do not come bj^ chance, 
But diligent work is the only condition 
By which one can prosper and hope to advance. 
The diligent school boy with thoughts concentrated 
Outstrips his' companions of maturer years 
Who loiter about, and are always found mated 
With those of their kind when the lesson appears. 
The diligent scholar stands head in his classes, 
And in his advancement all others surpasses. 

This rule will apply to both men and to nations 
Whose peace is secured through diplomacy's skill ; 
Which failing, the war dogs are called to their stations 
With powder and ball their opponents to kill. 
Prosperity is the result of untiring, 
Intelligent efforts displayed by some men, 
Whose zeal in their work is both wise and inspiring ; 
Who richly deserve all the comforts they gain ; 
Good progress can never be made by the lazy, 
With sluggish mind clouded and intellect hazy. 

No one can expect to win honor by waiting — 

By simpl}' neglecting to do well his part, 

With energy waning and senses abating 

Until his one chance to improve will depart, 

For time in its flight will not wait for the wooing, 

Nor will it turn back to accommodate those 

Who fail to advance, when we all should be doing 

Our share to alleviate sorrows and woes. 

A word kindly spoken to some one in sorrow 

May bring its reward ere the sun rise to-morrow. 

The things we deserve will come to us while waiting 
To delight or to fill sorrow's cup to the brim ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 53 



Then let us keep moving, our zeal not abating, 
To act our part well and to labor with vim; 
Each one has a right to improve his condition 
By honest endeavor, and do it with might. 
Fame, character, honor, will gain him position 
Who strives for a living and fights for the right ; 
The sluggards who sleep while the harvest is waiting 
Will find it too late when their strength is abating. 



Jan. 27, 1904. 



Bessie's Vow 



A country maiden, young and fair, 
With ruddy cheeks and raven hair, 
Dwelt with her father near a rill 
Beneath the .shades of Fancy Hill, 
Where flowers wild, with beauty rare. 
Instilled their fragrance through the air; 
While woods close by, with russet glow. 
Lent beauty to the scenes below 
Where, vine-clad, stood the humble home 
Of a father, busy at his loom; 
While children played upon the floor 
Or vaulted o'er the double door*, 
While older ones, in duty bound. 
The woof with dextrous fingers wound; 



*A century or more ago all the houses throughout the country were 
provided with double doors — an upper and a lower one. The upper door 
in warm weather was usually kept open to serve for ventilation, while the 
lower one was closed to keep snakes, toads and other vermin from intruding. 



54 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Or aided mother to provide 

The meals for the children of her pride; 

But the task was light in that happy home 

For the weaver at his wooden loom, 

And the days and nights passed swiftly by, 

With his wife and children ever nigh. 

To link the future with the past 

This scene could not forever last; 

For when their children were all grown 

(Like birds that from their nests have flown,) 

They left the family fireside — 

A bridegroom, or a happy bride. 

One journeyed here, another there. 

Now freed from all parental care, 

Save Bessie, who remained at home 

To aid her father at the loom. 

Now would it not be strange to find 
A comely lass with even mind, 
Who would of suitors lack her share 
While still beneath maternal care ? 
And thus it proved in Bessie's case; 
Who, with her mild and pleasant ways 
Won many a suitor for her hand. 

But only one at her command 
Found favor with the damsel fair — 
A timid youth with modest air, 
Who worshipped at the maiden's shrine 
Beneath the wild or cultured vine; 
Or in some quiet, shady spot. 
Where grew the wild Forget-me-not, 
While feathered songsters from above 
Bore witness of his ardent love. 



AND OTHER POEMS 55 



While thus elysian fields they trod, 

In love with nature and with God, 

An angry frown upon the brow 

Of Bessie's father, who till now 

Had not objected to the youth, 

To Bessie plainly showed the truth; 

For when the lover next drew nigh, 

Her father, with an evil eye. 

The youthful rustic thus addressed : 

"Look here, young man; I now request 

That from henceforth you pass no more 

The threshold of my cottage door. 

For you can never hope to get 

]\Iy daughter Bess — this don't forget. 

This house of mine shall not be made 

The home of such a renegade; 

If you this counsel will not heed 

An undertaker you may need; 

Just pass out at the cabin door 

And shun this place for evermore." 

Then Bessie nobly raised her head 
And to her tristful lover said : 
"Then be it so, if we must part, 
Although it sorely grieves my heart 
To learn that we may never wed. 
But that in future w'e instead 
Must strangers to each other be; 
We must obej', so 3^ou are free. 
Then no more rambles by the rill, 
No blossoms more from yonder hill, 
No journeys down the meadow plot 
To pluck the wild Forget-me-not, 
The Buttercup and Daffodil; 
Nor climb up yonder rugged hill. 



56 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Where we might view the country o'er 

As we have often done before; 

These pleasures all I must eschew, 

And what is worse, must part from you. 

So must it be. In this our home, 

Where scented vines and roses bloom, 

I must remain while in my prime, 

A recluse for all future time. 

So now to you this vow I make, 

That in the future, for your sake, 

None else shall claim this hand of mine. 

Which may no more be clasped in thine; 

Nor shall this heart for others beat. 

Now that we two no more shall meet. 

Here with my aged parents dear 

I must now pass each lingering year; 

While time shall last, and they remain, 

My youth shall vanish for their gain; 

Now that their closing years draw nigh 

My energies I shall apply 

To comfort them and to sustain 

Their waning strength while they remain." 

"Then go your way; you soon may find 
Another one to please your mind, 
Who with her mild and winsome ways 
May cheer you in your future days. 
And aid you well to bear your load 
On life's uncertain, devious road; 
May fortune smile upon j'^ou then. 
And bless you with abundant gain; 
That you and yours may happy be 
For this I pray — remember me !" 



AND OTHER POEMS 57 



A cloud o'erspread with deepening gloom 
That humble and once happy home; 
From Bessie, once so blithe and gay, 
All happiness had passed away. 
No music now could charm her ear, 
While all the world seemed cold and drear; 
The birds that once with varied song 
Had charmed her fancy all day long 
Now seemed to mock her on her way 
While at her duties day by day; 
The hooting of the horned owl 
At eventide, too, seemed to scowl; 
The piping of the w^hip-poor-will 
Down in the copse close by the rill; 
The cooing of the turtle dove 
From the dead and jutting branch above 
Fell harshly on her listless ear, 
And often filled her soul with fear. 

The rosy tint of Bessie's face 
Soon passed away, and in its place 
A pallor o'erspread it now, 
While time showed traces on her brow; 
Her serried cheeks and gray-grown hair 
Depicted well the constant care 
That she bestowed upon the twain 
Their feeble bodies to sustain. 

One evening in the month of Maj^ 
Her aged mother passed away; 
Then six years later father died, 
Who now reposes by her side, 
While Bessie, poor and destitute, 
(A noble type of womanhood,) 
Now passes her declining years 
Almost forgotten by her peers; 



58 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Yet is there found no brighter gem 
In kingly crown or diadem 
Than noble woman such as this, 
Who well deserves eternal bliss 
For her heroic fortitude, 
Who with parental love imbued 
Would thus dismiss her dearest friend 
To serve her parents to the end. 

April 12, 1893, 

Note. — The subject of this poem is not a myth, but a reality. She is 
still living and rapidly nearing the Both milestone of her life. The narra- 
tive is of course somewhat colored and varied, in order to conceal her 
identity, but the main facts are true. She is poor, almost destitute, and is 
well worthy of any kindnesses that may be bestowed upon her. 

O.J. 



Black Pete 



^npHERE was an old rover, we called him "Black Pete," 
-■- Who ne'er had a semblance of shoes on his feet; 
Instead he had rags and old clothes wrapped around, 
Then with thongs and with twine he had them well bound. 

He roamed o'er the country without end or aim. 
In sunshine or rain, 'twas to him all the same ; 
When he ambled along o'er the hot, dusty street, 
He'd kick up a terrible dust with his feet. 

His garments were tatters, as though a hail storm 
Had got in his way and encountered his form. 
He was straight as an arrow, at least six feet tall 
From the top of his head, taking in rags and all. 



AND OTHER POEMS 59 



The footprints he left with a swash and a thud 

Just looked like an elephant's, in the soft, yielding mud; 

Suspenders he wore none, but what's in a name ? 

A strap o'er his shoulders held his trousers the same. 

He was a queer piece of flesh any place to adorn, 
For the sweet smelling rose we all know has its thorn; 
One-half of his face was as black as a crow 
While the other half of it was black too, you know. 

Some called him an Indian, but that was not so, 
For Indians have straight hair, as all of you know, 
While his hair was curly and black as a coal; 
He was hated by all, yet a simple old soul. 

Just where he was going or whence he had come, 
These questions to answer he always was mum; 
When ser\'ed with hot coffee, applebutter and cheese. 
He'd mix them together and drink it with ease. 

To make himself handsome and make his face shine 
He'd rub it with bacon just out of the brine, 
And then ate the morsel, deprived of its fat ; 
Say, fastidious readers, how would you like that? 

He often played captain in his soldier's chapeau, 
With a rooster's tail feathers stuck on for a show. 
Which answered his purpose in place of a plume. 
To give him the bearing he'd like to assume. 

He heralded his coming with a whoop and a shout, 
Shouting in a high tenor, "Look out ! Black Pete's about !" 
Which we all well could hear for a mile, if not more. 
As the sounds rolled before him the hills and dales o'er. 



6o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

His "Yee-whoo ! and lookout !" still ring in my ear, 

For when I was young they oft filled me with fear; 

" 'Squire Rhoads"* and "Big Boyer"t he often would shout, 

Then everyone knew that "Black Pete" was about. 

He marched to the sound of the rap a-tap tap 

Played on a tin water pot hung on a strap,. 

Which was swung 'round his neck and then fastened before, 

And answered for kettle-drum, fife and much more. 

Thus arrayed he would march up and down the old road, 
Never weary of walking or carrying his load, 
With a rap-a tap-tap and a rap-a-tap-tap, 
And a rap-a- tap tap and a tap. 

Near our home stood a fence made of rail and of post; 
This he imagined were soldiers — a valiant host. 
Before them then stationed he'd give the command: 
"Forward, march! face about! halt!" in attitude grand. 

Going through these manoeuvres himself quite correct, 
Then he'd pass down the line the whole troop to inspect, 
Then played them a tune with a rap-a-tap-tap. 
And a rap a-tap-tap and a tap. 

Then he'd go with them through the whole manual of arms, 
From attention, battalion! to shoulder arms! 
Then he'd give them instructions to load and to fire. 
Until from exertions he'd freely perspire. 

All these fine manoeuvres he'd himself execute, 
For his old wooden soldiers were all deaf and mute; 
With a terrible clatter he left the old squad, 
Beating the drumsticks inside the old water-pot. 

*John Rhoads, father of the Rhoads' residing here. 
fHenry Boyer, one of the founders of Boyertown. 



AND OTHER POEMS 61 



Long years had passed over, yet still he would come, 
With his soldierly trappings and his old kettle-drum; 
His hair was now turning a silvery grey 
As years sped their courses and youth passed away. 

And then for a season his visits he ceased, 
As infirmities due to old age increased; 
His step less elastic, his form less erect, 
And in his demeanor now more circumspect. 

As months rolled along and he did not return, 
All thought that now surely his race he had run — 
That his soul in his wand' rings had taken its flight 
To a home and a heaven more cheerful and bright. 

At last he came around with his reason restored, 

His past life and conduct he deeply deplored; 

Instead of the tatters and rags he had worn 

He was dressed in new garments, was shaven and shorn. 

When addressed, in his language polite and refined. 
It showed that he now had a well balanced mind; 
His hair silver^- white, 'neath the silk hat he wore, 
Was in quite pleasing contrast to his condition before. 

Of his antics reminded, his face for awhile 
Would be lit with a solemn, a sweet though sad smile, 
He would kindly rebuke them thus (lifting his hat): 
"No more of that, please, no more of that." 

He left with best wishes of his old friends of yore, 
Whom in his wild wand 'rings he'd oft met before; 
For years his old body must now be at rest. 
While his spirit in heaven is joined with the blest. 

Boyertown, Sept. 22, 1891. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



"Old Black Pete" 



HERE is the old fellow, we've 
found him, that's so, 
Just as he appeared half a cen- 
tury ago, 
When he heralded his coming 

with a whoop and a shout. 
With his "Yee-whoo! Look out! 
Black Pete's about!" 

If you'll give me your attention 
just a few minutes more 

I'll tell you some facts that I'd 
forgotten before. 

When I wrote you some verses 
concerning "Black Pete," 

Who roamed o'er the land with- 
out shoes on his feet. 

When rigged up for marching 

he had on his back 
A bundle of sticks fastened on 

his knapsack; 
These he'd carry along just 

wherever he'd go, 
In summer and winter, through 

rain and through snow. 




For what use intended I never could see — 
That part of his outfit was a riddle to me. 
Unless 'twas the place of a blanket to fill, 
As soldiers are rigged up when called out to drill. 



AND OTHER POEMS 63 



We were told by our mother, while then yet quite small, 
He'd take us along if he'd catch us at all; 
If we were so naughty and would not obey, 
He'd surely come along and would take us away. 

So when in the distance we'd hear his "Lookout!" 
We'd prick up our ears and you bet we'd clear out 
And hide in the bushes, like a frightened young hen 
When she spies the fierce hawk hovering over the pen. 

We were always good children when he was around — 
No fault by our mother was then to be found; 
We behaved ourselves nicely, and kept rather shy, 
For fear the old codger might still be near by. 

Good children 'twas said had no reason to fear, 
Although Old Black Pete might be ever so near; 
As we were all bad ones you see why we ran 
When he sounded his "Yee-whoo" and rattled his can. 

A lonely companion through rain and through fog, 

Accompanied him in the shape of a dog 

With a thin drooping tail and a long pointed nose, 

Whom he gave the name "Mike," just for short, I suppose. 

Quite a queer looking sort of a dog was old Mike; 

In all my experience I never saw his like; 

With his paws bound in rags and his short, straggling hair, 

And in his condition both bony and spare. 

One more of his antics I now will relate 

And then I will leave poor old Pete to his fate: 

As he ambled along on his staff day by day, 

He picked up the loose stones that lay in his way. 



64 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

He'd fill his tin water- pot up to the brim 
With stones, or else cast them aside with a vim; 
Thus he cleared up the roadway of all the loose stones, 
While his dog followed after and gathered the bones. 

Thus endeth the tale of this curious old man; 

I've pictured him to you as near as I can, 

I've endeavored to instruct you, to please and amuse, 

If I've failed in my efforts I hope you'll excuse. 

Boyertown, Pa., Oct. 6, 1891. 



Breaking Flax in Olden Time 



eUlTE well I remember when I was a boy, 
There was an old man in my father's employ 
Whose custom it was to break flax by the day 
For the farmers around, for a nominal pay. 
Thus he toiled and he labored from morning till night, 
Always cheerful and happy, and he took great delight 
To do a day's work to the fullest extent 
For the men who employed him and thus proved his friend; 
Always busy and eager the crude flax to break, 
To earn a few dimes for his family's sake; 
With a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap, 
And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 

His garments were coarse and his manners were plain; 

Him well I remember — I see him again 

In his homespun attire, with his staff by his side, 



AND OTHER POEMS 



65 



As he ambled along in his long measured stride, 
To the "Brech-loch," or place where the flax was well dried 
By the heat underneath, when dry stumps were applied. 
In the grey of the morn, by the star's fading light. 
You could see him engaged while the fires burned bright, 
As there by the flax-brake he stood, bending low. 
Breaking well the crude stems from the fibres and tow. 
With a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap, 
And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 




g^ia 



^tfCZs.. 



There stands the old "Brech-loch" by the side of the lane. 

Walled up on three sides. Ah, I see it again, 

As it stood many years in the long, long ago, 

Surrounded by fragments of stumps and of tow; 

There the lath lay across it from wall unto wall. 

With the flax spread upon them — again I see all. 

There fragments of stumps when the match was applied 

To start up the fire for the flax to be dried; 

Now the smoke curling upward through the lath on the wall 

While the workman is busy breaking flax in the Fall, 

With a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap, 

And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 



66 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Now turning the flax on the lath on the wall, 

That the heat from the fire might permeate all, 

And dry it completely so that he might break 

The stems from the fibres for the good farmer's sake. 

There he stands, 'mid the fragments of stems and of tow. 

Breaking flax by the day as he did years ago; 

As hour after hour the time passes on 

Until all is broken and his labor is done. 

Through cold, chilly weather, with hands stiff and sore. 

He toils in his labor of love evermore, 

With a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 

And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 

I see the old "flax-brake," with blades of white oak; 

There many a bundle of flax has been broke 

By the strong, brawny arm of old Yerger, the sire, 

While with fork for a poker he stirred up the fire 

To roast well the flax on the lath laid on wall, 

To render it easy to break in the Fall. 

Though frosts linger long in the sun's slanting rays, 

As it slowly mounts upwards, yet always in place 

You'll find the old workman, in his storm-beaten cap, 

Toiling on with his "brake" with a swish and a clap. 

And a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap, 

And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 

There stands the tin pail by the side of the wall, 
With sweet cider filled from the press in the Fall; 
Though flies and though beetles should congregate there 
To fall in the cider and drown — does he care ? 
He is not possessed with fastidious taste. 
Nor will he permit all the cider to waste. 
Each passer-by with the old workman will stop, 
And of his sweet cider will take a good sop, 
Nor caring that in the sweet cider were found 



AND OTHER POEMS 67 



A host of bugs, beetles and flies that were drowned. 
Then a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap, 
And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 

But the scene has now changed, and I see now no more 
The "Brech-loch," the "Flax-brake" and workman of yore; 
These landmarks of old times have all disappeared, 
While where they once stood, now fine houses are reared; 
And naught now remains of these treasures of old 
But a few hoarded fabrics in some favored household, 
As heirlooms and treasures, not purchased by gold. 
But wrought by the men, wives and daughters of old, 
When happy was he who had flax to prepare 
And form into garments so strong, now so rare; 
With a clap, clap, clap, and a clap, clap, clap, 
And a clap, and a clap, clap, clap. 

Boyertowa, Sept. 8, 1892. 



Can You Give Me a Good Reason Why? 



WHY is it that young people sicken and die 
While the old and the feeble remain, 
A burden to those whose patience they try — 
Can some one the reason explain ? 

Those old and decrepit, the feeble and weak, 

With lamp of life flickering low, 
Methinks 'twere a blessing if they could depart 

From this world with its pain and its woe. 



68 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The sun can no longer illumine their path 
When the eyesight is dim and obscure ; 

With senses abated all pleasures are gone, 
While death, though delayed, will be sure. 

Their souls gently wafted to realms of light 

Beyond to the Beautiful Shore, 
All pain, all discomfort, all sorrow would cease — 

Serene all would be evermore. 

Why is it that cutthroats and rascals should live 
While the honest and upright should die 

A premature death, in the middle of life ? 
Just tell me a good reason why ? 

One well might suppose if all rascals were dead 
And were resting beneath the green sod. 

More beautiful then were the world to behold 
To a just and a merciful God. 

Society always is menaced by those 
When outside the walls of a jail ; 

The rascally robber will kill if at bay. 
Before whose drawn weapon we quail. 

The gambler when caught in the act to defraud 
By the victims whom he would despoil, 

Will whip out his weapon and shoot the one down 
Who tries his smart eflforts to foil. 

The liquor-filled sot, as he staggers along, 

Indecent in language and dress. 
Will utter dire vengeance against all the rest 

Who try its wide sale to repress. 



AND OTHER POEMS 69 



The footpads and tramps that are ambling around 

Their pockets and stomachs to fill, 
Will go through their victims in sight of a gun — 

If resisted will shoot down and kill. 

These come to your house at all hours of the day, 
Whose demands, if we rightfull}^ spurn, 

Will leave with an audible threat on their lips 
To come and )'our building to burn. 

The fires that light the horizon at night 

Are often the work of the tramp ; 
That seedy, old rascally beggar and lout — 

A lousy and worthless old scamp. 

Our country is full of these loafers to-day — 

Too lazy to earn their own bread ; 
Like locusts of Egypt they swarm o'er the land, 

Whose presence w^e some day will dread. 

When one dies we cover the coffin with flowers, 

While living the same we deny; 
Why is it this token of love we then show ? 

Can you give me a good reason why ? 

The dead lump of clay can no longer enjoy 

Those tokens of love and esteem, 
Nor can it the grateful aroma inhale. 

Such token of love it would seem 

Were better bestowed on the living while here, 
Who then could inhale with delight 

The sweet smelling savor of roses in bloom, 
And relish the beautiful sight. 



70 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

'Tis right that we often and tenderly place 
The blooms on the mounds of the dead, 

And linger at times at the foot of the grave 
While tears of affection are shed. 

But let us remember to show our esteem 
To those who are tarrying here, 

Lest we may regret when the hour has come 
When they, too, are laid on the bier. 

April 26, 1903. 



Centennial Anniversary of Betsy Trout 



ON August thirteenth, at high noon, a lonely traveler, I 
Drove on along the Western slope of "Long Hill" looming 
nigh. 
Down at my home at Boyertown it was ninety in the shade ; 
One well might ask, at such an hour, why should this trip be 
made ? 

To tell you I will briefly try, and then you will agree 
With me, that it was worth the while the gathering crowd to see. 
This was the hundredth birthday of poor old Betsy Trout — 
To celebrate this rare event — for this I ventured out. 

I heard the strains of music swelling up among the trees 
As they were borne along the slope upon the Summer breeze ; 
Down through the woods I took my way where teams were teth- 
ered 'round, 
Near to the home of Betsy Trout, where many folks I found. 



AND OTHER POEMS 71 



The Cornet Band of Friedensburg, with music filled the air, 
To pass the time most pleasantly for those assembled there ; 
This must have been a welcome treat to ears unused to hear 
The strains of martial music, aye, perhaps for many a year. 

Old toothless dames were there, whose mouths in wonder stood 

ajar ; 
To take in all the speakers said, these journeyed from afar ; 
They came through mountain passes steep, from many a hill and 

vale 
Of Rockland, Pike and Washington, of Earl and Colebrookdale. 

Each village and each hamlet, and each farm house sent its share 
Of sires and dames and boys and girls, and youths and maidens 

fair ; 
E'en infants in their mothers' arms joined in to swell the crowd 
That gathered in the cooling shade to see old Betsy Trout. 

Some came in stages, some in cabs, some rode the noiseless bike. 
While others journeyed o'er the hills from Oley and from Pike ; 
The huge, fat man of Friedensburg among the crowd was found, 
Who carries on his spacious back full many an irksome pound. 

A line was stretched from tree to tree to keep away the crowd. 
With wagons for a passage way, where she could venture out ; 
Here sat the centennarian upon an easy chair — 
The central figure of them all, where each could grin and stare. 

She felt extremely happy and contented with her lot. 

And thanked the donors for their gifts which they to her had 

brought. 
Close by her sat her Mary Ann, who smoked her time-worn pipe, 
Well up in 3'ears and bent with age, with visage sere and ripe. 

Three score and seventeen j-ears have passed since she herself was 
born ; 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Now time upon her shrunken face has many a furrow worn ; 
The pipe, her boon companion, it is said is never cold ; 
From being in such constant use the same is getting old. 

Three thousand people gathered there to honor Betsy Trout, 
While full three hundred carriages were scattered 'round about; 
The woods, the fields and fences, where a horse could well be 

tied, 
Were filled with cabs and vehicles, with hammocks strung beside. 

The preacher, with a German name and sanctimonious air, 
With white cravat and shaven face, to manage things, was there. 
His mild and pleasing countenance, with crown of well-kempt 

locks, 
Show him to be a shepherd true who safely guards his flocks. 

The old and feeble in his charge in him have found a friend 
Who will "stick to" and comfort them, and cherish to the end. 
He guards his sheep and leads them on as shepherds did of old, 
And knows well how to manage them to keep them in the fold. 

There are some shepherds I might name, in this enlightened day, 
Who in their eagerness to please will drive the sheep away; 
They try to guard the little lambs against some fancied wrong, 
And then attack the elder sheep in language fierce and strong. 

In bitterness they cry and rave against some fancied evil, 
And then exultingly proclaim they've driven out the devil ; 
Some frightened sheep will leave the fold and thus will go astray 
In quest of some more quiet fold, in future there to stay. 

With bars all down around the fold is it a wonder, then, 
That other sheep should follow out and leave the parent pen ? 
Oh! for some brief authority, some fancied Christian power 
To show our might with grim delight in this life's fleeting hour ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 73 



Abundant speakers were on hand to pass the time away, 
To entertain the sweltering crowd on that eventful day. 
While they are speaking to the throng, let us in memory go 
Back to the time when she was born — one hundred years ago. 

Unbroken was the wilderness where now her cabin stands ; 
Then bears and panthers prowled around upon these fertile lands. 
Some clearings here and there were found where hardy pioneers 
Had braved the dangers of the wilds in those eventful years. 

The War of Independence still had left its trace behind 
Of orphanage and widowhood, and woes of womankind ; 
Of widows' labors night and day their little flocks to feed, 
Eschewing worldly comforts for the things they were in need. 

The grand, immortal Washington, God ever bless the same. 
Was living yet when she, a child, first learned to lisp his name; 
Thrice happy she who can recall, in her extreme old age, 
The scenes of chilhood and of youth from Memory's golden 
page. 

In youth the sickle she could wield to reap the ripened grain, 
And vied with men upon the field subsistence to obtain ; 
Then later, when the cradle came the sickle to replace, 
To rake and bind the sheaves of wheat she found a steady place. 

Still later, when the reaper came with clatter and with din, 

She bound the sheaves and lent a hand when they were gathered 

in. 
Eight years ago. at ninety-two, she bound with her own hand 
Some sheaves of ripened wheat and rye upon a neighbor's land. 

The price of labor then was low, to reap the golden grain ; 

It took a woman four full days a dollar to obtain ; 

If men earned fifty cents a day they well were satisfied ; 

With frugal living in their homes their needs were all supplied. 



74 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



In every home throughout the land in happy days of yore, 
The spinning wheel to her in youth made music on the floor ; 
She early learned the art to spin and wind the linen thread — 
To toil from morn till late at night to earn her daily bread. 

The distaff and the wool wheel, too, to spin the choicest fleece 
She handled with a dextrous hand, aye, learned the task with 

ease ; 
In home-spun garments to appear, this was the fashion then — 
No ruffles and no ornaments — 'twas simple, neat and plain. 

The honest yoeman of the land could not afford to give 
Much cash wherewith to decorate— they needed all to live. 
They paid their bills with hard-earned cash, like honest folks 

should do, 
While luxuries of every kind — all such they would eschew. 

This is not now the case with most in this enhghtened day — 
They spend more money than they earn to make a fine display ; 
Foremost at celebrations and at picnics they are seen. 
With holidays most every week and excursions in between. 

And then they say that times are hard, they cannot pay their 

bills. 
And lay the blame to others' doors for all their woes and ills ! 
Were we to do like people did in those happy days of yore. 
Each one would have enough to live and lay by some in store. 

Aug. i8, 1896. 



AND OTHER POEMS 75 



Christmas Eve vSixty Years Ago 



'npHE storm without was howling fiercel)^ sixty years ago, 

-*- While over hilltops, bowling, sped the swiftly drifting snow; 
The windows rattled loudly as the wind swept swiftly by. 
While in the kitchen, proudly played my sisters, brothers, I. 

For mother was preparing each some Christmas token fair ; 
For us children she seemed caring as we plaj^ed around her chair. 
The floor an extra scrubbing had received the day before. 
And the stove an extra blacking as it stood upon the floor, 

And the shoes a thorough greasing, in a row behind the door — 
All things looked neat and pleasing as the}^ never looked before. 
We romped in expectation on the smooth, uncovered floor, 
For to-morrow would be Christmas— this I knew and nothing 
more. 

All at once I heard a tapping at the window near the door, 
As of some one rudely rapping, such I never heard before. 
Like a chick that runs to cover, to my mother then I sprang. 
Sore affrighted, trembling over, to her garments then I clang. 

I looked and saw them standing at the window by the door. 
Some strange creatures, hideous, panting, and I thought I heard 

them roar. 
Now this surely is Kris Kinkle, (I had heard of him before,) 
For I heard the bells now tinkle as they stamped upon the floor. 

Then again I heard them rapping loudly—this time at the door ; 
Rapping, rapping, loudly rapping, as they stamped upon the 
floor ; 



76 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then they opened at the bidding of my father, stern and rude, 
Through the open door now flitting, and before my mother stood. 

Were they demons, ghosts or human? I, affrighted, could not 

tell; 
That they were not creatures, human — this, I thought, I knew 

quite well. 
Then I felt my heart was throbbing as it never throbbed before — 
They my peace of mind were robbing as they stood there on the 

floor. 

Then a bundle of long switches they struck hard upon the floor, 
And I thought of gliosis and witches, for of such I heard before; 
Then of me they now demanded that I say my evening prayer; 
Then with fierceness they commanded — to refuse I did not dare. 

Then on my knees, obeying now their firm and stern commands, 
I was sobbing and was praying, with my raised and clasped 

hands ; 
Then with nuts and shellbarks rattling on the hard, uncovered 

floor, 
With the others they kept battling as they tried to gather more. 

I clung closer to my mother as they thrashed around the floor. 
And I thought I'd surely smother as my face I buried more ; 
Then all at once they vanished as they closed the double door, 
And then my fears were banished, banished to return no more. 

For two sisters, that, unnoticed, had gone out some time before, 
Now returned again, I noticed, through the wide and double 

door ; 
This explained to me the reason why with us they would not 

stay. 
And then returned in season, when the ghosts had gone away. 

Boyertown, Dec. 21, 1891. 



AND OTHER POEMS 77 



Commonweal Cranks 



THERE'S trouble brewing in this land 
'Twas started in the west, 
Where Coxey, with his straggling band, 

With big and swelling breast, 
Came on to march to Washington 

Without apparent cause ; 
And, having crossed the Rubicon, 
To make and frame our laws. 

In fear, along his chosen beat 

The people came and brought 
Whole wagon loads of things to eat, 

With prudence and forethought ; 
Quite well they knew that if not fed 

These vagabonds would steal, 
And thus disgrace the man who led 

This band of commonweal. 

The people who had been their tools, 

And fed them on their way, 
Are just as big a lot of fools, 

In fact as bad as they; 
All heretofore their cause would shun. 

While they were all despised ; 
Now Coxey ites enjo}^ the fun 

Of being lionized. 



78 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

They countenance their lawless acts 

And cheer them on the way; 
They overlook the stubborn facts 

That we will have to pay 
The damage that these lunatics 

Through thoughtless acts commit ; 
Then lay the blame to politics — 

Our rulers call unfit. 

Asylum doors are gaping wide 

For lunatics like these, 
Who join the onward flowing tide 

To travel at their ease ; 
Big loads of grub and provender 

For men as well as beast, 
These sympathizers furnish free 

To make a royal feast. 

The sheriffs, with their deputies. 

On horseback in the van, 
Led on this horde of lunatics — 

A roving, shiftless clan. 
The times have changed— our greatest men 

Have come down with a flop ; 
Down with our noble Congressmen, 

While beggars are on top ! 

This land is full of anarchists, 

Who will not heed our laws, 
Of populists and fusionists, 

Who vote without a cause ; 
This Coxey movement clearly shows 

There's danger lurking near ; 
This thing may end in worse than blows 

Behind a ringing ear. 



AND OTHER POEMS 79 



As candidates for prison cells 

These cranks and fools, unshot, 
Are moving on with shouts and yells 

To Washington — great Scott ! 
These shiftless, lawless vagabonds 

Will try to raise the wind, 
Get Congress to distribute bonds 

And greenbacks without stint. 

But they will find when they get there 

Policemen stout and strong 
Will rope them in with jealous care 

And hustle them along. 
To corral and to feed this band 

Of Coxeyites and tramps 
Will take a lot of cash in hand — 

Why should we keep these scamps ? 

There's a way to dispose of this commonweal clan, 

A plan the policemen might try. 
Would you get the drift of this possible plan ? 

Then with your attention draw nigh : 

A river, with current majestic and strong, 
Flows by with a shimmer and gleam ; 

Just give each a dip, with a souse deep and long, 
In this fair and historical stream. 

'Twould end all expenses of feeding this band 

Of anarchists, idiots and cranks, 
And purge with one effort this glorious land 

Of all such, with thousand fold thanks. 



April 28, 1894. 



8o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Daniel Hertzog and His "Flying Circus" 



T knew of a Daniel when I was quite young — 
-^ A man in appearance both hearty and strong — 
Who lived, it was said, on a farm in the hills, 
Contented and happy, where flowed bubbling rills. 

A curious sort of a person was he, 
As those who beheld him could readily see ; 
For when he was out for a stroll on the street 
He never made use of any legs, nor of feet. 

Now Daniel was honest, this people all knew, 
For he never cheated one out of a sou ; 
Yet must it be mentioned while singing his praise. 
That he wasn't always correct in his ways. 

He cheated the shoemaker out of his fee — 
The reason thereof you can readily see ; 
And as for stiff limbs or of frost-bitten feet 
He never did suffer while walking the street. 

He never wore leggings nor shoes — this I know, 
The reason whereof I will presently show ; 
And if you would question this part of my rhyme, 
Then wait a few minutes — ^just give me more time. 

'Twas always his habit when out on the street 

To walk on his hands instead of his feet ; 

This habit, you'll say, was both wise and discreet — 

(He was born without legs and of course without feet.) 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A gallant young man was this Daniel of old — 
A chivalrous knight with demeanor quite bold ; 
The ladies, aware of this, oft took a ride 
In carriage or sulky, or sleigh, b}' his side. 

'Twas on a fine morning one cold winter day 

That Daniel hitched up his best horse in his sleigh ; 

Then rigged up himself in his Sunday attire 

And drove to the home of his "girl" with his flyer. 

She gladly accepted a chance for a ride ; 
Dressed up in her Sunday best, she by his side 
Enjoyed the cold air in their jaunt o'er the way 
Through hamlets and towns on that cold winter day. 

The trotter was restive and eager to go 

O'er hills and through valleys, through deep drifts of snow, 

While merrily jingled the bells on the way, 

As onward they sped on that cold winter day. 

A farmer's dog, dozing, heard jingling of bells, 

Then rushed on the road with loud barks and fierce yells ; 

This frightened the trotter, who made a side leap 

And upset them there in the snow on a heap. 

The horse in his fright, being freed of his load. 
Left out the last notch as he sped up the road, 
While Dan and his girl, in the snow-drifted street, 
Were struggling and tugging to get on their feet. 

Beyond a few bruises they suffered no harm. 
With whip and with buffalo robe on her arm 
She stepped with her burden the snow-covered street 
Beside her companion sa7is legs nmius feet. 



82 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

To Boj'ertown struggled the unlucky pair, 
He puffing and sweating in the cold wintry air. 
Unable to aid him, though keeping his side, 
She shared in his woe in their unlucky ride. 



Of coaches and horses he had not a few ; 
So when on the farm there was nothing to do 
His horses and coaches at once he would load 
On a wagon or two and then take to the road. 

When Daniel a place for his circus had found, 

All the boys and the girls of the country around. 

And the youths and the maidens, were there in their pride. 

To join in the fun with a "fip" for a ride. 

The older folks, too, would the circus approach 
And take a good ride in some quaint painted coach, 
Or straddle the wooden nags circling around 
In single file over the well beaten ground. 

The venders of peanuts, honig kuche, lemonade, 
Were there with their tables rigged up in the shade ; 
With candies and pretzels a goodly supply. 
They raked in the pennies while catching the eye. 

To woo a fair maiden while riding around 
Some youth from the country was sure to be found ; 
Too ardent while pressing his suit in the chaise, 
Unconsciously drew he the rude public gaze. 

A horse furnished power while circling around, 
lyike an old-fashioned mill where the apples were ground, 
While a hand organ, squeak)^ and all out of tune, 
Enlivened the scene by the light of the moon. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



But the days of the old "Flying Circus" are gone, 
As merry-go-round these rigs are now known ; 
Now larger the circle and swifter the gait 
While driven by steam in the tent-covered shade. 



May 9, 1895. 



Devil's Hump 



STAND on the brow of Prospect Hill, 
And gaze northwestward, if you will ; 
An object looms up to the sky — 
A mighty mount to catch the eye. 

Beyond the intervening hills. 
Whose rounded tops and flowing rills 
Lend beauty to the charming sight. 
There looms this monarch in its might. 

The fertile fields that lie between. 
The winding stream with silver sheen, 
Are lost to sight when we behold 
The picture of this monarch bold. 

Thou silent sentinel of old ! 
Upon thy crest a crown of gold 
Rests lightly when the sunset glow 
Has left the valley far below. 

I ' ve watched the mists of morning spread 
Around thy laurel-covered head, 
When wafted by the summer breeze 
Around, above and through the trees. 



84 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Named after the infernal elf, 
Mere pigmy (i)now of former self, 
Thy figure bold I still admire, 
While heavenward thou dost aspire. 

Yet, even in thy lessened height, 
Thou well can'st claim the gazing sight 
Of mankind, for thy wooded crest 
I^ooms heavenward above the rest. 

Where slanting sunbeams softly play 
Upon thy crown at close of day; 
While all around thee like a pall 
Fall shades of twilight over all. 

The gloom that permeates the vales 

When sunlight on the hill-tops pales, 

Is deepened in the twilight hour 

When quiet reigns through copse and bower. 

And when at last the shades of night 
Fall on thy crest of granulite, (2) 
Then wearied Nature falls asleep 
O'er hills around and valleys deep. 

Upon thy top, in solemn mood, 

In years gone by I often stood, 

And viewed, with pleasure and delight, 

The varied scenes in glowing light. 

The rounded hills of Colebrookdale, 
The winding stream and narrow vale, (3) 
The cattle browsing on the hills, 
The wooded slopes and bubbling rills, 



AND OTHER POEMS 85 



The spacious farms of fertile soil, 
Which well repay the farmer's toil ; 
The fields of waving, golden grain, 
The dwellings and the winding lane. 

Thy crown of laurels I behold. 
Just as it was in days of old, 
When foxes played upon thy crest, 
Or lay on Rocky Point (4) to rest. 

When roused by hunter's horn or hound, 
Whose baying through the hills resound, 
While on they speed upon the trail, 
O'er wooded hills and narrow vale. 

Or circled round thy oblong base, 
With hounds and hunters in the chase ; 
When, weary of the chase, the fox 
Found refuge deep amongst thy rocks. 

What mighty subterranean power 
Has caused thee, in an unknown hour, 
To rear thy long and rounded crest 
Far heavenward above the rest ? 

Hast thou not lain for ages past, 
Secure from storm or wintry blasts, 
Deep in the bowels of the earth 
When first dame nature gave thee birth ? 

Laurentian gneiss (5), thy fiery bed. 
Caused thee to rear thy rocky head 
When earthquake shocks asunder rent 
The rocks above, and gave thee vent. 



86 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Well may'st thou, with laurel crown, 
Upon thy lesser neighbors frown, 
Who fain thy power would refute — 
Who would thy eminence dispute. 

The morning dews dance with delight 
To catch the sun's first rays of light, 
That glinting through the mists appear 
Above thy neighbors standing near. 

Yet canst thou them protection show 
When threat'ning storm clouds hover low; 
When lightnings flash and thunders peal 
Thy prominence they quickly feel. 

While skyward looms thy rockbound crest 
Thou art a bulwark to the rest ; 
When tempests madly onward course 
Thou well canst turn or break their force. 

Upon thy slope, in shaded wood, 
The wily Indian's wigwam stood ; 
Here dwelt the Lenni L,enape, 
Ruled by their Chieftain Manangee. 

The bubbling springs, whose waters race 
O'er Potsdam sandstone at thy base, 
Were gushing then, when Indians found 
This was their happy hunting ground. 

And when the hardy pioneer 
Sought where some favored spot to clear, 
Close to thy springs he found the place 
Where dwelt in peace the Indian race. 



AND OTHER POEMS 87 



The children of the forest then 
Inhabited each nook and glen 
Around thy base, in sheltered wood — 
'Tvvas there the Indian's wigwam stood. 

Upon the Indian's practiced ear 
The rifle crack fell sharp and clear, 
When to thy slopes the pale face came 
The Indian's heritage to claim. 

And when the timber crashing fell 
They gave a long and last farewell 
To thee and to thy rocks and rills, 
And refuge sought beyond the hills. 

The old log cabin on the hill, (6), 
The bubbling spring and flowing rill. 
Have linked the present with the past 
When to the whites the title past. (7) 

Detesting both thy shape and name, 
No bard had ever sung thy fame, 
And thus neglected thou hast stood 
An outcast from thy brotherhood. 

Yet lapse of time can best enhance 
Thy virtues, for thou wert by chance 
A mountain born in ages past. 
And with the other mountains classed. 

Full many thousand years have sped 
Since thou hadst raised thj?- rocky head ; 
Full many thousand seasons more 
Shall run their course as heretofore, 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Yet maj^'st thou fore'er remain 
A pleasing object from the plain, 
And in thy silent grandeur stand 
A mighty monarch of this land. 

Sept. 5, 1894, 

Note. — "The great extent of the Potsdam Sandstone formation through- 
out the United States is described by Prof. Rogers (Geological Survey of 
Pennsylvania in 1858, Vol II, p. 780), who finds two arguments for the view 
that it was deposited in a quiet sea." 

"The Potsdam White Sandstone cannot be considered a persistent form- 
ation throughout Berks County at the surface, for it occurs in patches lying 
against the gneissic mountain sides ; yet these patches are remnants of a 
formation which had a wide extent, and no doubt spreads more or less con- 
tinuously but irregularly beneath the limestone and slate regions of the 
great valley. They are so much alike ; the sandstone is so easily recogniza- 
ble everywhere that there can be no doubt of their common origin and 
former far wider spread. And, in fact there can hardly be a doubt that this 
layer of sand once covered the whole mountain district, so that the gneiss 
rocks, which had been eroded before the Potsdam sea rose to cover them, 
were preserved from further erosion until quite recent times. That the lime- 
stones over the Potsdam also covered the mountains is equally evident; and 
there is no reason, therefore, to oppose the suggestion that the whole Paleo- 
zoic system 30,000 feet thick has been removed from off the South Moun- 
tains. All this had to be removed before the gneiss rocks could come under 
erosion again and the present surface be got." 

The Devil's Hump is regarded as a spur of Fancy Hill by geologists, 
which belongs to the South Mountain range. Hence the expression (i ) "Mere 
pigmy now of former self." Imagine a layer of 30,000 feet on top of Devil's 
Hump and you can form some idea of its immense height thousands, yea 
millions of years ago. This added to its present height (1000 feet above 
sea level) would bring its height nearly six miles. (2) Potsdam Sandstone — 
called also granulite by geologists. (3) Valley of the Popodickon. (4) 
Rocky Point is the northeastern extremity. (5) Laurentian Gneiss forms 
the bulk of the mountain. (6) Philip Gottschall's house, on the plateau 
between Devil's Hump and Sand Hill. (7) In 1732 Sassoonan, the Sachem 
of the Delaware Indians, sold to John, Thomas and Richard Peun, all the 
land between the Lechay (Lehigh) hills or South Mountains and the North 
Kittatinny or Blue Mountains, and between the Delaware and Susquehanna 
rivers. This was practically the great limestone valley south of the North 
Mountain, and though the terms of the sale did not expel the Aborigine 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Do Not Despair 



SHOULD your nearest friends all leave you, 
And your dearest friends deceive you, 
And all others try to rob j^ou and ensnare ; 
Should reverses thickly falling, 
In a storm and flood appalling — 
Do not despair. 

When misfortunes overtake you, 
And your dearest friends forsake you. 
And shall leave you in your troubles and your care 
When the world seems sad and dreary, 
And your form is weak and weary — 
Do not despair. 

Should you meet with sore afflictions, 
With the sad and sure convictions 
That your troubles will in truth be hard to bear ; 
Then why should you trouble borrow ? 
And why pine and die in sorrow ? 
Do not despair. 

The fair question then arises, 

While all others shall despise us, 
Why shall we in our troubles not despair ? 

Then the answer plain is given — 

You will find relief in heaven ; 
So you see you have no reason to despair. 



from this territory, the country was so rapidly overrun by the white settlers 
that the privacy of their villages and council fires compelled them to remove 
beyond the mountains so that this date really left the Berks County of to- 
day free from Indian domain. Appendix to Report D 3, Vol. II. Part i, 
Second Geol. Survey of Berks County. 



90 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Double-Mount 



OFT when with business cares o'ertaxed, 
When mind and body feel relaxed, 
Then common prudence would suggest 
That you should take some needed rest. 

Such times like this I've oft beheld, 
When I through cares of business felt 
Oppression in their weight to me, 
And from them gladly would be free. 

Oppressed like this I've often found 
If I could climb some rocky mount 
And view the works of nature o'er, 
Strength would return to me once more. 

The purer air that here I breathe, 
Which circulates amongst the trees, 
A double office in me fills. 
Through vapors pure which it distills. 

The rocky steeps in Summer time, 
Of "Harrick's"* sides I love to climb, 
Where safe from hunters and from hounds 
The sly and cunning fox abounds. 



^The "Harrick," or Devil's Hill, as it is commonly called, is regarded 
by geologists not as a distinct mountain, but merely as a spur of "Fancy 
Hill"; hence the expression. 



AND OTHER POEMS 91 



Upheaved by Earth's plutonic fire, 
A rugged offspring of its sire^ — 
A thousand feet above the sea, 
Here many charming sights I see. 

While on its Rocky Point* I stand 
The view appears sublime and grand ; 
Here nature, with a lavish hand, 
Displays her force on upheaved land. 

The pleasing sight I here behold 
Of Boyertown, with spires of gold, 
Where earnest Christians meekly meet 
Their pastors and their friends to greet. 

In solitude while here I rest 
Upon this high and rocky crest, 
My nearness to my God restores 
My waning strength with double force. 

Electrified by Earth's great powers 
This vital substance on me showers ; 
Invigorated by its force, 
Refreshed, I journey on my course. 

While standing on the top of this, 
Then, like a large metropolis, 
With many stacks and pointed spires 
The city of Pottstown appears. 

On Fancy Hill's long rocky crest, 
Where hawks and eagles build their nest, 
Alone I've lingered, filled with awe. 
When I the works of Nature saw. 



*Rocky Point, commonly called "Stone Head." 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



The rattlesnake and copperhead — 
The reptiles that I always dread — 
Among these rocks I here behold, 
Secure and safe their victims hold. 

Between this rugged Double-Mount* 
There lies the Indian's hunting ground f 
Where roamed the Lenni Lenape, 
Led by their chieftain, Manangee. 

The war whoop of the Indian then 
Resounded through this forest glen, 
Before the grant to William Penn 
Was sanctioned, in King Charles' reign. 

Here, sheltered by these mountains high, 
The cold winds whistle harmless by, 
As o'er these rocky crests they sweep, 
And far beyond their revels keep. 



Echoes of the Fire 



THE night was quite windy, the hour past two ; 
Dark clouds hid the moon from belated men's view ; 
Not the sound of a footstep was heard on the street 
Save the tramp of the watchman while rounding his beat. 

I dreamt while I dozed, while the hours passed by, 
Of divers strange scenes, when I heard a shrill cry 



*"Double Mount," or the "Harrick," and Fancy Hill. 
tConmionly called "Old Field" and Indian Field. 



AND OTHER POEMS 93 



Ring out in the stillness, which roused me from sleep, 
And I sprang to the window, methinks, with one leap. 

Not far from our home played a flickering light. 
Which lit up the sky on that dark, stormy night ; 
My stockings, somehow, would not fit to my feet, 
So I managed, half clad, to run out on the street. 

Harry Houck, in his stocking feet, ran 'round the square, 
While his piercing yell. "Fire! Fire!" rang through the air ; 
Like a madman he yelled, without hat, without coat, 
As he sped like a demon along the main road. 

A young man, belated while out on a lark, 

(Too late I should think to go home from a "spark") 

Was strolling along, but soon took up the cry: 

"Fire! Fire!" as the flame and the smoke met his eye. 

"Fire! "Fire! shouted he as he hastened along 
Out Chestnut, then Third, to the Hookie House gong. 
Harry Rhoads was the first to respond to the sound, 
Thus rudely aroused from his slumbers profound. 

Clang! Bang! went the gong on the Hookie House Spire, 
While up blazed the flames on the structure still higher. 
The bell on the Engine House rang loud and clear, 
Apprising all sleepers that danger was near. 

More lurid the flames and more dense grew the smoke 
As from their sound slumbers the sleepers awoke 
And hastened, half clad, to the scene of the fire. 
As up blazed the structure still higher, yet higher. 

That the building was doomed everybody soon saw, 
And this filled the minds of the people with awe ; 



94 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The costlier structure that stood so close by 
To save from destruction each person would try. 

Out Third street was nearing the sound of the gong, 
As the truck of the Hookies was speeding along ; 
For sprinting and service these cannot be beat — 
Unmindful of danger and fearless of heat. 

To be first in service these brave boys aspire, 

And as a result they are first at each fire ; 

Where danger most threatens they're sure to be near — 

Being trained to the ser\nce, they know of no fear. 

With the aid of Pete Eschbach's black charger and steed, 
Out Chestnut the Hookies made excellent speed 
To the scene of the fire, in the dead of the night, 
When people all trembled and shook with affright. 

Then swift as an arrow the black charger sped, 

The steam fire engine to bring to their aid ; 

Soon hose cart and truck, and steam engine were there, 

And lines of hose laid to the structure with care. 

The sparks that were borne by the winds to the sky 
Were dropping like hail on the buildings near by; 
Like myriads of snowflakes they whirled through the air, 
Endang'ring the buildings around everywhere. 

Appalling in grandeur, the fiery display 
Struck terror to each bosom, and filled with dismay 
The minds of spectators who stood huddled near. 
Each willing to aid, yet each shaking with fear. 

Our firemen did well when they got under way 
And on the big blaze with the nozzles did play ; 



AND OTHER POEMS • 95 



For had it not been for the men with the hose, 

More homes would have burned down — this everyone knows. 

The Hookies alone could not manage the fire, 

For the steam fire engine could throw the streams higher ; 

The heat was too great near the fire to get, 

Nor could they with water have kept all things wet. 

Our firemen did nobly — both companies I mean ; 

All worked with a will — not a laggard was seen ; 

The Hookies with ladders and axes made way 

For the Hosenien with streams on the buildings to play. 

Thus hand-in-hand worked they until it was found 

That the huge burning building was razed to the ground ; 

But the piles of charred timber the story can tell, 

That the firemen worked bravely — who could do as w^ell ? 

Friend Nuss, the big stalwart, was scorched through his clothes 

While too near the building, in handling the hose ; 

But others soon came to the firemen's aid, 

And thus, through the relay, good progress was made. 

Frank De5^sher, the chief, in his ulster, was there ; 
To extinguish the flames he of course did his share ; 
And when all was over some tongues became chilled 
With Manderbach's best, or with lager beer filled. 

While water is good to extinguish a fire, 

It will not dry clothes on a son or a sire ; 

You need something hot to dry clothes, wringing w^et ; 

A glass of hot-toddy will do it, you bet. 

There was fun in the bar-room and fun in the street. 
When two jolly firemen happened to meet ; 



96 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Where deepest the mud amongst rubbish and trash 
They strode arm in arm with a thud and a splash. 

We should not now blame them for drying their clothes, 
No, not if the drinks should have tinted each nose ; 
They are jolly good fellows and know what to do 
When fire is raging ; I think so, don't you ? 

And well may they glory, for had it not been 
For the skill of our firemen, a different scene 
Would now greet the eye as you stroll up and down 
In this well built up part of our beautiful town. 

Nov. i8, 1897. 



Funnel Cakes 



A SEQUEI. TO THE CHIMNEY CORNER 



AH ! well do I remember still those happy days of yore 
When but a child I romped and played upon the kitchen 
floor, 
Or stood close to my mother's side and watched, with eyes aglow, 
The stream of batter as it flowed into the pan below. 

There stood the spacious amber bowl upon a handy chair, 
Well filled with seasoned batter that my mother made with care ; 
Then 'round she passed the funnel with an easy, graceful hand, 
To shape the funnel cake for us, her hungry little band. 



AND OTHER POEMS 97 



How eagerly we watched the stream of batter as it flowed 

Into the pan of frying lard which on the tripod stood ! 

How we watched the batter swelling as it circled 'round and 

'round ! 
Or how it changed its color when the funnel cake was browned ! 

Again I hear the crackling of the bubbles of hot air 
That rise up from the bottom while the lard is frying there ; 
I see the bubbles forming on the swelling coils of dough, 
Then bursting in succession when the batter ceased to flow. 

Like a serpent roused to anger, while its coils were tightly wound, 
Seemed to me those coils of batter when the cake was baked and 

browned ; 
Methinks I see us standing there beside the open hearth — 
A group of young, impatient kids, with youthful glee and mirth. 

Again I hear the crackling of the wood laid on with care, 
Sending sparks of fiery embers on the group assembled there ; 
There the shadows of our figures stand against the inner wall, 
Every one in huge proportions — ah ! methinks I see it all ! 

Every movement of our bodies, while the smoke is rising higher, 
Is reflected on the ceiling by the brightly burning fire ; 
With hands joined in a certain way, the fingers moved withal, 
Would throw the shadow of some beast upon the distant wall. 

How every nook and corner of the kitchen, large and square, 
Was filled with the aroma while the cakes were baking there ! 
This sharpened our appetites while there we waiting stood, 
While minutes seemed whole hours in our young, impatient mood. 

Methinks I hear the prattle of the childish voices sweet ; 
Or the soft and rapid footsteps of the rounded little feet, 
Racing up and down with eager haste upon the oaken floor. 
Now here, now there, now everywhere, as oft in days of yore. 



98 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Or rollicking upon the floor in mirthful, childish glee, 
From memory's hidden sights revealed again these scenes I see ; 
There brothers and there sisters all, some grown, some small as I, 
Assembled 'round the festive board, the funnel cakes to try. 

Watch those nimble little fingers deftly pinching off a slice, 
Then convey the dainty morsel to be eaten in a trice ; 
Behind the table on a bench that stood against the wall 
I see a row of boys and girls, some grown and others small. 

How those funnel cakes would vanish when attacked on every 

hand. 
When dealt out by our mother to her hungry little band ! 
How one, and then another of the coils would be unwound. 
When handed down by mother while the plates were passing 

'round. 

My memory loves to linger on those scenes of long ago. 
When, happy and contented, we knew neither pain nor woe. 
Ah! those happy days of childhood, could they but return again! 
No thoughts then for the morrow, no cause then to complain. 

No troubled dreams, no moaning to disturb a weary head. 
While peacefully we slumbered in our little trundle bed, 
Then woke up in the morning with a brain refreshed and clear, 
And with body lithe and limber and a mind unknown to care. 

Boyertown, Nov. 5, 1893. 



AND OTHER POEMS 99 



Gathering Chestnuts 



IN the morning hour of twilight 
When the frost was on the ground, 
And the ripened leaves of chestnut trees 

Were scattered all around, 
We boys and girls upon the farm 
Would start out on our way, 
Beneath the trees the nuts to pick 
Upon each autumn day. 

Those stately trees, with massive limbs, 

With many a branch and bough 
Well laden with the ripened nuts — 

Methinks I see them now, 
WTiose prickly burrs are gaping wide 

To show the chestnuts brown, 
Which, swaying in the autumn winds, 

Will send them rattling down. 

Though now the trees are dead and gone, 

The roots and stumps decayed, 
I still could show each separate spot 

Where many trips were made 
To gather ripened chestnuts 

In the morning of each day, 
With many pricks of fingers 

From the burrs that scattered lay. 

Again I hear the drenching rain 
Come pattering on the roof 

Up in the garret where we slept. 
From rain and harm aloof ; 

L.ofC. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



The scattered drops, by gusts of wind, 

Against the window pane ; 
The sousing in the chimney there — 

All this I hear again. 

The storm is past, the clouds dispelled ; 

I hear our father's call 
At early dawn to rouse us up ; 

Then out we scrambled all, 
And hurried off to gather nuts 

While yet we scarce could see 
To pick among the cruel burrs 

Beneath the chestnut tree. 

The needle pricks to finger tips 

Benumbed with cold and blue, 
Annoyed us all at early dawn. 

But what were we to do ? 
Bedraggled though our clothing. 

And though water- soaked each shoe, 
We kept on with our bidden task 

Until our work was through. 

Through fields of wormwood growing wild 

We took our homeward way, 
Well laden with the ripened nuts 

That all around us lay; 
Then home upon the garret floor 

We placed them all to dry 
For winter use, but many times 

We took some on the sly. 

The place where they were spread to dry 

Methinks I see once more, 
Beneath the cedar shingle roof 

Upon the garret floor, 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Where prowling mice would come by night 

Forbidden fruit to take, 
When, in their haste, to let them drop 

Us sleepers to awake. 

I see the bag of chestnuts that 

Was hung up in the loft. 
Suspended from a wooden peg. 

With chestnuts sweet and soft ; 
And though the bag was out of reach 

For children such as we, 
To reach them that a way we found 

Our mother well could see. 

I hear the water simmer 

On the stove the nuts to boil. 
To make our task seem pleasant 

And reward us for our toil ; 
When 'round the table all would sit 

And each one take a share 
Of apples, nuts and cider 

That were in profusion there. 

Or when on Christmas Eve some ghost 

Would ope the kitchen door 
And glide in, and then scatter them 

Upon the oaken floor ; 
But when we tried to pick them up, 

A rap upon our hands 
Would cause us to desist, and then 

Obey his stern commands. 

Those childhood days are past and gone — 
Those days we loved so dear ; 

Life's winter is approaching fast, 
Old age is drawing near ; 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



The furrowed brow, the waning strength, 
The sparse and hoary hair, 

Show Time in his unceasing march 
Has left his impress there. 

Still Memory clings around that home. 

Where many a happy year 
Was passed, upon that hallowed spot 

We cherish and revere ; 
And though the time is drawing near 

Upon the worldly stage, 
To bid farewell to manhood 

And to make our bow to age, 

Yet frail though life in age appears, 

With senses in restraint, 
With Memory's golden treasure safe 

We shall not make complaint ; 
For when our eyes grow dim with age. 

Touch, taste and feeling gone. 
With Memory's treasures safely stored 

To draw and feast upon. 

Our journey down life's rugged path 

Will be a pleasant dream. 
When feasting in declining years 

Upon some childhood theme 
That looms up in the active brain 

From Memory's hidden store, 
Until we reach the pearly gates 

Upon the other shore. 



Sunday. Oct. 14, 1900. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Gathering Winter Apples 



LONG seemed the years and seasons all 
< When picking apples in the Fall 
To store away for Winter use ; 
Long drawn out seemed the days to me 
When perched upon some apple tree — 
No wonder one would get the blues. 

Distinctly I remember now, 

When from some high projecting bough 

My brother shook the apples down. 
A cry of pain, or piercing yell, 
Proclaimed where apples rudely fell 

Upon some unprotected crown. 

There stood myself and sisters three, 
With wagon-cover stretched out free. 

To catch the apples as they fell. 
Small wonder then that they should fall 
On hands and arms and heads of all — 

Should one not cry for pain, and yell ? 

There up among the tree tops tall, 
Where danger threatened in a fall 

If one a misstep were to make, 
While round your neck a bag was swung 
When apples from the twigs were wrung — 

If then, perchance a limb would break 

There in the early morning air, 
When heavy frost was lingering there 
Upon the branches in the shade. 



I04 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

How numb and cold the fingers grew 
While picking in the frozen dew, 

When broken twigs abrasions made. 

How weak and brittle seemed the skin ! 
And then the clothing, oh, how thin ! 

When perched upon the apple tree. 
The merest scratch the skin would break, 
And were it not for duty's sake 

The task severe would seem to me. 

With branches swaying to and fro 
While cold October winds would blow, 

With cold chills running up your back. 
While scudding clouds passed overhead, 
How deep the gloom ! how cold the shade ! 

How grateful when the sun came back. 

How in the early eventide 

With loaded wagon home we hied — 

Old "Rock" with cart brought up the rear. 
That blind old horse, so safe and true, 
Instinctively his duties knew, 

Though growing feebler year by year. 

The cider apples last of all, 

Were picked and gathered in the Fall, 

And taken to the cider mill, 
Where they were into pomace ground 
By one horse circling round and round — 

I hear the old mill creaking still. 

The copper kettle on the crane 
Was hung wherein to boil again 
The apple-butter as before ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 105 



Sweet apples then by hand were pared 

And from the same the snitz prepared, 

To boil in as in days of yore. 

For beverage in barrel tight 
The sweetest cider was supplied, 

First boiling it with sassafras, 
With allspice, cloves and cinnamon — 
A pleasant drink for old and young, 

Of which none would refuse a glass. 

When Winter evenings came apace 
What better could the table grace 

Than apples in a spacious dish ? 
While in a pitcher by its side 
Fine flavored cider was supplied — 

'Twas all a growing lad could wish. 

Thus through the months of snow and frost- 
(To youth it seemed an age almost 

From Fall to Springtime of the year). 
Each evening brought its mirth and cheer, 
With apples and with cider near, 

To brothers, sisters, parents dear. 

Though onerous at times would seem 
The labors of the farm, a gleam 

Of sunshine such as this would bring 
Contentment to us all, and then 
Each one felt anxious once again 

To do our share the coming Spring. 

Boyertown, Sept. 26, 1899. 



io6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



G eno vef a 



OF all the tales of misery and woe 
That fell to lot of woman here below, 
Through innocence, by vile intrigues of man, 
When thwarted in his base and hellish plan 
To satisfy the cravings of his lust 
And rob a woman of her sacred trust, 
None can in persecution well compare 
With Genovefa — Geneveive the fair — 
Who, born and bred in luxury and wealth. 
Of lovely form, and blessed with youth and health, 
Oft sported in the waters of the Rhine, 
Or on its banks beneath the growing vine 
In shade reposed, with her attendants nigh. 
Or watched the vessels as they glided by; 
Oft in her muse her thoughts would rise to heaven 
In thanks for all these earthly blessings given. 

While thus her maiden days were spent in love 

With Nature and with Nature's God above, 

A Roman Bishop — Hudelfus by name. 

In priestly garb to famous Trier came 

Catholic faith the people to expound. 

Where Siegfried dwelt — the good and noble Count, 

Who Genovefa' s hand in marriage sought ; 

Consenting, her to his own palace brought, 

Where Hudelfus, the priest, with solemn air, 

In wedlock joined the young and loving pair. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



107 



While thus their days in bliss and joy were spent, 
Each to the other hope and comfort lent, 
A Moorish king, Aberosam by name, 
To Spain, across the Dardanelles, came 
With mighty hosts, the Spaniards to destroy 
By lancers, swords and horse in his employ. 

When once the Spanish Kingdom he had won, 

And fair Hispania's coasts had overrun 

From sea to sea, his scattered forces massed, 

Then rested ere the Pyrennes he passed 

Into the French domain. Martellus, King 

Of Gaul, now saw what danger it would bring 

To his dominion, were the Moors allowed 

To cross the mountain range and then to rout 

His scattered forces ere relief could come 

To aid his soldiers thus to overcome 

The Moors. So couriers were in haste now bade 

To summon Counts and Princes to his aid. 

Throughout his realm, with all their troops and men 

Of valor, courage, and inured to pain. 

When summons to the gallant Siegfried came 
With troops to hasten to Burgundy's plain. 
In direst grief and anguish, sad to tell. 
Poor Genovefa weeping, swooning fell 
Into the arms of Siegfried, who caressed, 
While to her lips the parting kisses pressed. 



When consciousness was once again restored 
To Genovefa, she, with tears, implored 
Young Siegfried still to linger by her side. 
To comfort and console her Siegfried tried 
In mournful tones, and in pathetic strain, 
But all his words and pleadings were in vain. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Then bade her in true faith she should depend 
On Virgin Mary, who to her a friend 
And comforter would be in her distress 
To soothe her lonely hours in holiness. 
"To you my truest servant I will leave, 
To do your bidding and to be your slave; 
Kind Golo, who will all your wants attend, 
And be to you a true and faithful friend." 
Thus spake the Count, while Genovefa, mute 
With grief and sorrow, in his presence stood; 
Then swooning fell — by her attendant caught, 
And to her chamber by assistants brought; 
Count Siegfried now in sadness and in tears 
His forces led, and bade adieu to Triers. 
When Siegfried now with all his forces came 
To join the hosts on wide Burgundy's plain. 
Where Counts and Princes with their forces lay, 
The onward progress of the Moors to stay, 
Martellus King, with sixty thousand men 
On foot, extended o'er the spacious plain; 
Twelve thousand horse with valor true and tried, 
The valor of the Saracens defied. 
Martellus drew, with this imposing force, 
Near to the Moorish camp with men and horse; 
Outnumbered four to one the Frenchmen stood, 
A wall of steel to stay the Moorish flood, 
That like an avalanche came down the plain 
To crush the Frenchmen on the French domain. 
With man to man and horse to horse arrayed, 
Now back, now forth the line of battle swayed. 
Fierce now the combat raged from end to end. 
While scores of Frenchmen to the dust were sent. 
By matchless prowess of barbarian host, 
While victory's prestige on their banners posed. 
But like a wall the gallant Frenchmen stood ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 109 



With reeking swords they drew the Moorish blood; 
With God and country as their battle cry 
The onslaught of the Saracens defy. 
The Moorish line now wavered, then withdrew, 
When to the charge the gallant Frenchmen flew; 
The dreadful carnage fierce now raged before 
The Christian hosts, who drew the Moorish gore; 
One hundred thousand Moors upon the plain 
By prowess of the Christian hosts were slain. 
To Agion the Moorish forces fled, 
Pursued by Gauls, by King Martellus led. 
For months here the barbarian forces stayed 
The progress of the victors, undismayed. 
While Agion by troops encompassed lay 
To famine and to pestilence a prey. 

Thus month on month and full a year rolled by 
Before the Frenchmen to their homes drew nigh, 
In consequence of which, in grief profound, 
Poor Genovefa mourned her absent Count; 
In prayer to God her voice would oft ascend 
To comfort and sustain her to the end. 
But Satan, ever ready to destroy. 
Sought Golo in his service to employ. 
The virtues of the Countess to defile 
In beastly and in hellish plan most vile. 
His duties to the Countess to attend, 
Kind Siegfried him had left her as a friend; 
While daily thus he in her presence came 
The lusts of flesh were fanned to burning flame; 
With loving words at last he ventured near. 
Perceiving which, the Countess, now in fear, 
Upbraided him, and thus to him she said, 
(In fear of Golo, and in mortal dread,): 
"Shame on thyself, thou mean, ungrateful man, 
Thy thoughts to burden with such hellish plan; 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Is this the love that thou to him dost show ? 
This thy fidelity, thou vile Golo ? 
This insolence to me gives sore distress; 
Do not again to me such words address." 

Golo, repulsed by woman's stern rebuke, 
Showed shame depicted on his downcast look; 
His thoughts failed utterance in his dismay, 
So mutely, silently, he stole away, 
Nor dared to speak till many .days were spent. 
The Countess, thinking him now penitent, 
To him showed, by her actions and her sense, 
That she forgave him for his insolence. 

While daily Golo in her presence came, 

His smothered lusts again were fanned to flame. 

One day, engaged, while in her room she sate, 

To scan a painting that of her was made 

By noted painter with a skillful hand, 

For Siegfried, on return with his command, 

She to the picture his attention drew — 

If any imperfection he could show. 

The wily serv^ant scanned it o'er and o'er, 

And then replied, "It lacks yet one thing more." 

"What is it, then, that your keen eye can trace? 

What imperfection on that lifelike face?" 

" 'Tis this," quoth Golo, "and for this I pine, 

That 'twere endowed with life and then were mine !" 

In fiercest anger on him now she turned 

And from her presence this vile creature spurned. 

On this severe rebuke Golo withdrew; 

But this did not his hellish lust subdue, 

For when at eventide the Countess went 

To castle gardens, there some time to spend, 



AND OTHER POEMS 



This fiend pursued her, and still nearer came, 
And spoke to her of the consuming flame 
That burned his vitals and would seal his fate, 
Unless his love she would reciprocate. 

In anger and in fiercest hate she said 

To him, hereafter if he effort made 

By word or act such conduct to renew, 

Or still persist her footsteps to pursue, 

Such conduct to the Count she would report — 

The friend on whom he looked for his support, 

Golo now saw that all his thoughts were vain 
The ruin of the Countess to obtain 
With his Satanic lusts, so now the flame 
Of love that had consumed his soul, became 
A seething cauldron of the fiercest hate 
Toward the Countess in her weakened state. 
Revengeful Golo now sought means to wound 
The spirit of the Countess, and soon found 
An easy way by which he could entrap 
The guiltless woman, and could thus escape 
The wrath of Siegfried, if he should return, 
Who from his service he would surely spurn. 

In Genovefa's household was a cook, 
Drago by name, in whom the Countess took 
Great interest for his religious ways. 
And often, as she passed him in his place, 
Would stop, and in her pleasant way would speak 
To him, and cheer him in his work, and seek 
To comfort and console him in his ways — 
In meek humility and Christian faith. 

While Genovefa thus the cook addressed 
And in his piety her faith expressed. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Attention of the others Golo drew 
The intimacy of the twain to show; 
And still persisting in his base design, 
The honor of the Countess to malign; 
A few of those less favored than the cook, 
Golo's opinion of the matter took. 

One day while in her room alone she stayed, 

While on an errand she had sent her maid, 

Golo his opportunity now saw 

The pious Drago in a net to draw. 

To Genovefa's cook then Golo went. 

Informing him that she for him had sent. 

The unsuspecting cook at once withdrew 

And hastened to inquire what he should do. 

The wily Golo followed close behind, 

Fair Genovefa with the cook to find 

Alone in her boudoir, by his intent. 

When to her room he falsely Drago sent; 

Then turned about in his deceitful way 

And left the room without a word to say. 

The Countess then asked Drago what this meant, 

And told him that for him she had not sent. 

Then Drago followed Golo's footsteps near — 

With vague suspicion on his mind — in fear. 

Golo, the hypocrite, with anger feigned. 

Attention of his willing tools obtained. 

And for their ears a storj^ did invent. 

False, base, abominable, of his friend. 

"What counsel," said he, "what advice, my friends. 

Would you suggest wherewith to make amends ? 

This evil must by us be overcome; 

For if perchance Count Siegfried should come home 

And find this dreadful state of things t' exist. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



From his employ we'd surely be dismissed. 
Enchanted by some secret potion given, 
On Drago her affections have been riven; 
Quite sure am I that she cannot desist, 
Nor can she now the tempter's wiles resist." 

" 'Twere best we Drago in a dungeon place 

To shield the Countess from his foul embrace; 

The Countess in surveillance we will hold 

So she her love no longer can unfold; 

In separation then she may repent 

Of her improper conduct to her friend." 

The heartless tools of Golo gave consent 

To treat the matter as his mind was bent. 

"Count Siegfried left these people in your care, 

So do to them whatever you think fair." 

With their connivance and with their consent 

The vengeful Golo for poor Drago sent. 

Assuming anger, he the cook accused 

Of having in his art some powder used 

To charm the Countess, thus to win her grace. 

"In order then to check your evil ways, 

In chains of hammered steel you shall be bound 

And cast into a dungeon underground. 

Where you shall rot, deprived of light and air, 

For having charmed the Countess unaware. 

Astounded, and in fright, in self-defence, 

In vain did Drago plead his innocence. 

"I call on heaven and earth," said he, "to prove 

My innocence, or that the thought of love, 

Of which I falsely am accused, my mind 

Has ever entered toward our friend so kind." 

But all his protestations were in vain 



114 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

From cruel Golo justice to obtain. 

In heavy chains he then was ordered bound, 

And hurried off to dungeon underground. 

One victim was removed to thwart the plan, 

Through vile intrigues of this ungrateful man — 

Incarnate fiend. In his satanic rage. 

Unwilling now his anger to assuage, 

He to the Countess in her chamber came; 

In presence of his men accused the same 

Of infidelity toward the Count; 

For this inconstancy she should be bound 

And in a dungeon cast, there to remain 

Until from Siegfried word he could obtain. 

Then spoke the Countess in a noble strain, 
Her virtues in her terror to sustain: 
"What have I done this torture to deserve? 
Did I from virtue and from honor swerv^e ? 
Must I be tortured to conceal thy sins, 
Which trouble to thy guilty conscience bring ? 
Did I not thrice repulse thy base desire. 
When spurned by carnal lust's unholy fire ? 
Must I for these thy fancied wrongs endure 
The tortures that to thee ought to inure ? 
Eight months have I in pain and anguish spent; 
Must I to prison go, without a friend 
To comfort me, and bear with me the pain 
I must endure before the moon doth wane?" 

Revengeful Golo, whom the Count had left 
To shelter her, was now of shame bereft; 
Then her he seized, and in the tower placed. 
In felon's cell, with prison garb disgraced. 

While there a prisoner she often prayed 
To God to aid her in her forlorn state. 



AND OTHER POEMS 115 



No one then dared to see her, or converse 
With Genovefa, than the young wet nurse, 
Who daily to her brought a felon's fare; 
Nor was aught else allowed to enter there. 

Repeatedly now Golo to her came, 
By art and strategy her love to gain; 
With gentle, soothing words he her addressed, 
And failing, then in angered language pressed; 
With glittering promises he then again 
His plea before the Countess made in vain, 
Then threatened her with deep and dire distress 
If she still would his ardent plea repress; 
Then flattered and cajoled her with her charms; 
And then essayed to compass with his arms. 

She then repulsed the brute by unseen aid, 
And in her auger thus to him she said; 
' 'Thou villain ! is it not enough that I 
Should be in prison locked to satisfy 
Thy vengeful nature for my constancy ? 
Must I needs also honor lose for thee ? 
My blessed hope of immortality ? 
Thou base, deceitful, cruel man ! To me 
Thou art a monster of so frightful mein 
That to be hated needs but to be seen. 
Yet rest assured thou art deceived in me; 
A thousand times I'd rather die than be 
Denied my immortality through thee." 

Well might such words have frightened this vile man, 
Or caused him to desist from his foul plan. 
Not satisfied with this severe rebuke, 
Golo the nurse into his counsel took; 
Large bribes he oflfered if she would obtain 



ii6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The favor of the Countess once again. 

Thrice, daily, when this woman brought her meals, 

She coaxed her, and as often made appeals 

Her rage and anger she should now repress. 

And Golo should with friendly words address. 

From Golo's anger she would be preserved, 

And then she should with better meals be served; 

This vagabond the Countess thus addressed, 

And Golo's graces still more strongly pressed. 

But firm in her resolve the woman stood 

To keep inviolate her womanhood; 

To her licentious nurse she made reply: 

"Alone, with hunger I would rather die. 

Than with this sin the wrath of God obtain, 

Or with this wicked crime my conscience stain" 

The time of her accouchement drawing nigh, 

The frightened Countess bid her nurse comply 

With her request — the services obtain 

Of two well-trained attendants, to remain 

With her, to comfort her in her travail, 

While thus imprisoned in the gloomy jail. 

This mild request the spiteful nurse refused. 

While often the fair Countess she abused. 

Abandoned in her hour of sore distress, 

She prayed to God to comfort her and bless; 

A ready answer to her prayer was lent — 

To her a lusty infant son was sent. 

The new-born babe which she was to sustain, 

In Nature's garb was left thus to remain. 

Devoid of garments, in her sore distress, 

A towel for the babe she used for dress. 

When now her infant offspring waxed in strength 

In spite of its harsh treatment, she at length 

Requested that the infant be baptized — 



AND OTHER POEMS 117 



The infant son that she so dearly prized; 
But this request was instantly denied; 
No priest dared enter to perform the rite. 
While thus of all religious rites bereft, 
In this emergency no other course was left 
Than to perform these sacred rites alone. 

So she baptized him Schmerzenreich, her son, 

Then took the infant in her arms and pressed 

Her darling to her full and aching breast; 

While tears were streaming down upon his head, 

The Countess, in her anguish, to him said: 

"Oh thou my poor, my only child ! my wealth 

And treasure thou ! May thou be blessed with health. 

I rightly named thee Schmerzenreich, my son. 

In pain have I beneath my heart thee borne; 

And thy appearance in this world hast made 

In pain and sorrow, in my forlorn state; 

But still far greater pain must I endure; 

Still deeper anguish in my heart inure 

When I must see thee famishing and die 

For lack of substance I cannot supply. 

With substance scarce enough to satisfy 

The cravings of my nature, how can I 

With nourishment thy tender form sustain, 

Or in such straits thy feeble life maintain ? 

Poor Schmerzenreich ! thou pure, thou undefiled, 

Unhappy thou, my poor, my only child !" 

The nurse, who so unfeeling erst had been, 
When now she witnessed this affecting scene, 
Compassion on the feeble Countess had, 
And then to cruel Golo went, and bade 
That she be sanctioned better food to serve 
To Genovefa, who could not preserve 



ii8 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Her darling child, whose life was nearly spent, 
While thus deprived of proper nourishment. 

This heartless wretch would not her plea allow, 
Nor would he her as much compassion show 
As to his dogs, which better meals received 
Than Genovefa, whom he had aggrieved. 
In her extremity he hoped to win 
Her love to him, and thus commit the sin 
She fought so bravely to resist till now. 
He gave the nurse permission to allow 
Of bread a larger portion than before; 
This was her diet — this and nothing more. 
Instead of consolation, she obtained 
Reviling language from this cruel fiend. 

Golo, the tyrant, would allow no one 
To write to Siegfried what to her was done 
By this inhuman creature, or that she 
Was tortured by his inhumanity. 
In ignorance of all that had transpired. 
Count Siegfried, who by daring valor fired. 
Was wounded in a fight on Agion's plain, 
Which, slowly healing, forced him to remain 
Beyond the time expected, when he left 
The Countess, while of consciousness bereft. 
To Languedoc Count Siegfried was conveyed 
To seek a noted, skillful surgeon's aid. 
While thus in Languedoc his time was Spent, 
A postman to him cruel Golo sent, 
A sealed and secret message to convey. 
Wherein, with guarded words, he did portray 
The evidence of intimacy that he said 
Existed in the household of Siegfried, 
Between the Countess and the trusted cook. 



AND OTHER POEMS 119 



As evidence of this the postman took 
Who could substantiate all he had said, 
Or call the other servants to his aid, 
Requesting that to him he should impart 
What course to be pursued on Golo's part. 

This willing tool no doubt was richly paid 

In his vile purpose Golo thus to aid 

The virtue of the Countess to destroy, 

By him and others in the Count's employ. 

This tool of Golo then to Siegfried told 

A tale of falsehood, which he did unfold 

In such a bold, convincing way, that he 

Felt doubts as to the Countess' chastity. 

In deep distress Count Siegfried suffering lay 

At this unwelcome news, in dire dismay; 

A thunder clap from out a cloudless sky 

Could scarce have shocked his frame so terribly. 

As act on act the lying hireling told — 

A tale of sin and wickedness unfold; 

How that both had in separate cells been placed 

To be compelled to lead a life more chaste. 

While thus in life she was of freedom shorn. 

To her a healthy infant son was born; 

That all the inmates of the castle knew 

On whom its true parentage to bestow. 

Then Siegfried asked the postman, "Can you tell 

What time the Countess passed through this ordeal !" 

To this he falsely said, "One month, all told," 

Whereas the child was over two months old. 

Then rose the Count, and like a madman wild. 

In rage both Drago and his wife reviled. 

"Thou wicked and infamous wife ! hast thou 

In shame thus set aside thy marriage vow, 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



While thou to me in language and in ways 

Wouldst act as though endowed with heavenly grace ? 

Hereafter in thy prison thou shalt be 

So closely guarded that no one can see; 

Nor shall the light of day ere penetrate 

Thy cell in thy forlorn and wretched state ! 

Drago, the cook, shall secretly be slain 

And to a felon's grave consigned. In vain 

For mercy shall he plead. This I command; 

So now return again to Trier Land." 

Commanded thus the courier then again 

His homeward journey wended o'er the plain, 

Nor rested he until the spires of Trier 

Their lofty heads showed pointing in the air. 

To Golo then the message he conveyed 

That Siegfried in his rage to him essayed. 

No hireling could a better record show 

Than did this willing tool to vile Golo. 

Poor Drago in his cell in fetters strong, 

In sorrow dragged his weary life along, 

A victim of Golo's vindictive hate, 

In ignorance of his impending fate. 

With diet spare Drago was daily fed, 

Without a bed or pillow for his head. 

The question then arose in Golo's mind, 

To execute poor Drago, where to find 

Some villain who was not too near of kin, 

Who could be trusted to commit this sin; 

But then this plan he thought would hardly do. 

For those opposed to him might make ado 

About the matter; so to have it fixed 

He ordered poison in his victuals mixed 

By one of his accomplices, and sent 

To Drago, which would then the trouble end. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



One day while 'round his cell poor Drago paced, 

In deep distress at being thus disgraced, 

Delicious food and wine to him were brought. 

Astonished, Drago said (suspecting naught): 

"What meaneth this, that I should now be fed 

With dainties, and with wine, instead of bread? 

Perhaps Golo will now relent his ways 

And take me from this dark and cheerless place; 

These heavy chains that I so long have borne, 

From aching limbs may now be quickly shorn." 

Golo to him in whispers seemed to say: 

"Take, eat and drink, nor long your hunger stay; 

The heavy chains which you have borne so long 

Will soon be riven from your members strong, ' ' 

Then unsuspecting Drago, kneeling, prayed, 

And after giving thanks to God, he ate. 

The toothsome viands which to him were brought 

Concealed the poison which in him soon wrought 

Such agony that he rolled o'er and o'er, 

In clanging chains, upon the stony floor. 

Thus died poor Drago, in this dreadful state — 

A victim of Golo's revengeful hate. 

His body, still in rattling chains arrayed 

By Golo was to distant copse conveyed 

In darkest night, and there, with chains still bound. 

In gaping grave concealed. 

Poor Genovefa in her dungeon pined 

For want of proper food while thus confined; 

Nor could her dungeon more secure be made 

Than it had been before through Golo's aid; 

No one to her could come near to converse 

But cruel Golo and her wicked nurse. 

But this was not enough. This cunning man 

Was always fearful lest his wicked plan 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Through Geiiovefa might some day be known, 

And to Siegfried his sinful conduct shown. 

Nor were there in the castle lacking those 

Who disapproved this action of Golo's; 

The murder of poor Drago they condemned, 

And for this act they held him in contempt; 

While Genovefa's treatment they deplored, 

And fain for her release would have implored. 

This on the conscience of the villain wrought; 

And while thus troubled, to him word was brought 

That Siegfried by the King had been discharged. 

And with his forces had already marched 

As far as Strasburg on his homeward way, 

Where with his army resting he now lay. 

A shudder ran through Golo's trembling frame 

When this unwelcome courier to him came; 

He knew that now no time was to be lost 

If he Count Siegfried would himself accost 

Before the latter could return again, 

Where others might his sinful course explain. 

With sturdy steed, well mounted, he then rode 

In haste to Strasburg on the nearest road. 

When Golo to that noted city came. 

In haste he sought the dwelling of a dame 

Of bad repute, with evil ways possessed. 

Yet in appearance holiness professed. 

This woman was the sister of the nurse 

That waited on the Countess at the birth 

Of Schmerzenreich. Her Golo long had known. 

And to the woman he the facts made known 

Before he sought the quarters of Siegfried, 

And her entreated that she should permit 

That toward evening he the Count might bring 

To her apartment where she could begin 



AND OTHER POEMS 123 



Her magic art, Count Siegfried to deceive, 

And thereby lead him firmly to believe 

That Genovefa with the cook had sinned. 

To her a piece of money gave the fiend, 

And then proceeded quickly to the Count 

To welcome him, with reverence profound. 

When now they friendly greetings had exchanged, 

From others near them they themselves estranged. 

On Golo now demand Count Siegfried made, 

That he in words explicit to him state 

The true condition of affairs at home, 

As they to his keen oversight had come. 

The cunning Golo, feigning sorrow, then 

With trembling words to Siegfried would explain, 

While tears of falsehood down his cheeks did flow 

As evidence of truthfulness to show. 

This affectation made it to appear 

That Golo's sorrow was in truth sincere; 

Nor could the Count in him discover aught 

That in his searching mind suspicion brought. 

The artful story to the Count he made 

Was not the holy life the Countess led, 

But accusations false, that in his mind 

Were calculated to deceive his friend; 

So well did he his artful tale relate 

That Siegfried did not doubt the words he said. 

Nor did this wicked man forget to tell 

How Drago in his wrath a victim fell 

Through poison, which by his instructions given 

His guilty soul from his vile form had riven. 

This secret execution of the same 

Was done to shield the Countess from her shame. 

In deep distress he heard Golo relate, 

And pondered w^ell on what to him was said. 



124 ONKEL JEPT'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Count Siegfried then demanded of Golo 
Still further proof — more evidence to show 
That she were guilty, that no doubt might be 
Of Genovefa's infidelity. 
The wary Golo, seeing that some doubt 
Arose in Siegfried's searching mind, about 
The truthfulness of the report he brought. 
And fearing that perhaps he might be caught 
In his untruthful words, he answer made: 
"Kind master, if thou doubt what I have said. 
Then know that in this city dwells a dame 
Of venerable age and world-wide fame, 
Endowed by nature hidden things to show, 
And truths reveal, which others may not know. 
If thou this woman wouldst consult about 
The circumstances of the case, no doubt 
To thee she could by magic power show 
Her sinful conduct with the cook Drago." 

This proposition of his steward, then. 
He thought to him the matter might explain. 
Deluded, Siegfried thus at eventide 
Proceeded, with this base man by his side, 
This wicked and deceitful dame to find, 
To satisfy his troubled, doubting mind. 
To her with frank and open heart he said 
That he suspicion of his consort had; 
To satisfy his mind he made appeal 
To him these hidden facts she should reveal. 
In well feigned lowliness the woman said: 
"I am not holy, yet with Divine aid 
To you I will reveal what I may know. 
And to your gaze some secret vision show." 
Thus saying, then both men she led below 
To dismal cellar in her house, where low 



AND OTHER POEMS 125 



Was burning a green light with blueish flame 

Then drew, with staff in hand, this wicked dame, 

A large and smaller circle on the ground, 

And in the centre of them placed the Count. 

Above the Count, in slanting form was placed 

A looking glass, two figures thereon traced. 

Reflected by the light with blueish flame 

Their shadow was projected by the dame 

Into a vessel filled with water, near 

Where stood the Count, with hair on end — in fear. 

Then came the sorceress close to the Count; 

While strange words murmuring, thrice turned around 

Before the vessel, into which she blew 

Three deep-drawn blasts, while still she nearer drew; 

Then stooping low, with hands immersed, the dame 

With measured strokes then briskly stirred the same; 

With hands uplifted then the sorceress 

In strange, enchanting words, the same did bless. 

"Now look therein," she said unto the Count, 

"And tell me then what thou therein hast found." 

Into the pail with light's reflected rays 

The Count then took a long and earnest gaze. 

At first naught to his searching gaze appeared; 

But as he longer looked and deeper peered, 

A vision, indistinct as yet to see, 

But thought the same might Genovefa be, 

While near her stood a figure v/hich appeared 

To be the cook Drago — to her endeared; 

Engaged in pleasant converse w^ere the two 

While thus their picture in his mind he drew. 

In pleasant words the Count to her replied: 

"I see no wrong in this — no harm implied." 

"Good," said the old enchantress, "let us know 
What further evidence the Lord will show." 



126 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The ceremonies she weut through before 
She now repeated o'er the pail once more, 
And then she bade the Count, in language plain, 
To peer into the vessel once again. 
Caressing now, he saw the Countess stand 
Before the cook, and stroking with her hand 
The cheeks of Drago, who thus near her stood. 
With flushing cheeks, in a submissive mood, 
Then tenderly upon his lips she pressed 
Abundant kisses while she still caressed. 
Excited now, Count Siegfried, blushing, stood 
In great anxiety, to see what would 
Appear, reflected from the mirror, when 
The third time he should deign to look again. 
The old enchantress then performed once more 
The ceremonies she had twice before 
Performed, and standing by his side, she then 
Requested that the Count should look again. 
When now the Count the third time looked therein 
To get, perchance, some proof of such great sin, 
He saw such evidences of her guilt 
That soon his heart with rage and anger filled. 
Thus through her magic art he felt convinced 
That what he saw the truth of all evinced 
Which Golo had reported to him when 
Encamped upon Burgundy's spacious plain. 
Then calling Golo to his side, he said: 
"Now mount your steed and hasten on ahead. 
And let the bastard and adulteress 
Both die a mean, dishonorable death; 
Nor in this life to meet her will I deign 
When I, ere long, my castle reach again." 

O'erjoyed at what Count Siegfried to him said. 
Instructed thus, revengeful Golo sped 
With rapid gait, upon his willing steed, 



AND OTHER POEMS 127 



In secret Genovefa's nurse to meet. 

Arriving at the castle, Golo then 

Unto the nurse in private did explain 

What Siegfried had instructed him to do, 

But cautioned her that no one else should know, 

In order that no uproar might be made 

Amongst her friends through Genovefa's maid. 

When Golo in her room thus with the nurse 

Upon this secret subject did converse, 

No one was with them in the room, or near. 

Who could their guarded conversation hear, 

Excepting a small grandchild standing near, 

Of whom however both had little fear 

That she could comprehend what they had said. 

Though young in years, and small, this little maid 

Intelligence and forethought keen possessed. 

This horrid news her eager mind distressed. 

She to the Countess in her prison showed 

More S3^mpathy, more love on her bestowed 

Than her vindictive grandmother. This friend 

Withdrew in silence from the twain and went 

To Genovefa's dungeon, where she stood 

Before the window small, through which her food 

Was handed to the Countess, where she cried 

Most bitterly, which hearing, filled with fright 

The Countess, who wiih eager footsteps pressed 

Forward, and thus the little child addressed: 

"Why is it, dear, that you should thus have cried?" 

Between her sobs the little girl replied: 

"Kind lady, your great misery and woe 

Compel in pity these hot tears to flow; 

Your weary life quite soon will be at end; 

Our master has this cruel Golo sent, 

Commanding him that you should now be killed." 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



The Countess now with great concern was filled. 

In her dismay she would have courted death, 

And thanked her slayer with her dying breath; 

But now an object dearer far than life itself 

Constrained her to preserve and save herself. 

With deep concern she asked the little dame, 

"My infant son — how will it go with him?" 

"Not better than with you," the child replied, 

While in her anguish still she sobbed and cried. 

Now, trembling like an aspen, in dismay 

The frightened Countess almost swooned away, 

And then she fell upon the stony floor. 

Where, for a time, she seemed to breathe no more. 

When to her consciousness returned again. 

In dire distress and agony she then 

Commenced to weep; while weeping thus she prayed: 

"Oh Thou, my God ! help me ! Lend me Thine aid ! 

Protect my child and me from wrathful death !" 

Then to the little maid, with quickened breath, 

She said : "My dearest child, now quickly run 

Into my room, where you will find upon 

My dresser, paper, pen and ink — these bring 

To me. For this your trouble, anything 

In my insignia of roj^alty 

That you may wish to have, this give I free. 

There have you now the keys to everything. 

May they to you peace, joy and comfort bring." 

Then brought the child the things that she desired, 

With true devotion to her friend inspired. 

A letter to the Count she then addressed 

Wherein these facts she thus expressed : 

"That to her ears intelligence had come 

That Golo from him had received her doom. 

My gracious lord, beloved husband mine ! 

This letter now to thee I would consign. 



AND OTHER POEMS 129 



To die a felon's death I am prepared, 

Since thou hast ordered that I be not spared; 

In this a sad good-night to thee extend, 

And then with sadness will await my end. 

Let my departure from thee friendly be, 

Although it sickens me so bitterly 

To know that I, while innocent, should be 

Condemned to die a felon's death by thee. 

This shameful Golo whom thou wouldst assist, 

Him have I fought and struggled to resist — 

Fidelity to thee has been enough 

To guard against this base, unholy love. 

This false, deceitful man must do thy will — 

For this then I a felon's grave must fill. 

I will not censure what thou thus hast done, 

While yet this subject I still dw-ell upon, 

Yet thou to those who censured me hast shown 

A willing ear, for cause to me unknown; 

While thou hast given me no chance to prove 

My innocence in my undying love. 

Denied my innocence to prove, I then 

Appeal to God to prove that I have been 

A faithful spouse to thee. In all my life 

Have I been chaste —a true and loving wife. 

To-morrow I shall stand before His throne; 

Let Him be Judge; if guilty, then disown ! 

This consolation then remains to me: 

That thou in future yet the day mayst see 

When clear my innocence may be portrayed, 

And my accusers in true light displayed. 

Good-night, my gracious lord, my dearest friend ! 

With all my heart I thee forgive. My end 

Will soon be here; for yet to-morrow's sun 

The sod that covers me will shine upon; 

When dead I will entreat the Lord that He 



130 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Will not avenge this dreadful wrong on thee, 

Or my accusers. I these lines now trace 

With trembling hand, while down my blanched face 

Hot tears their rapid courses run; while Death 

My heart has sealed, and claims this fleeting breath, 

To thee I have been faithful to the end; 

For this, my constancy, have been condemned 

To die ! Thy faithful wife, Genovefa." 

This letter then she bade the child convey 

In secret to her room, and not display; 

And bid her not to tell to any one 

Of what had happened, or what she had done; 

And then the night in earnest prayer she spent, 

On God relying as her only friend. 

The tiger shuns the glaring light of daj^ 

And hence selects the night to seize his prey; 

So Golo, in his thirst for human gore, 

Two of his trusted friends called then once more 

In dead of night, and to them did explain 

That Genovefa and her child be slain 

By order of Count Siegfried, who, he said. 

Demanded that their guilty blood be shed. 

To carry out these wishes of their lord 

Great recompense should be their just reward. 

"Then take the woman and her child, while yet 

All others in the castle are abed. 

And hasten to the woods beyond the plain; 

There let the woman and her child be slain. 

To prove to me that you this work have done. 

Bring me her eyes that I may look upon. 

If these instructions now are not fulfilled, 

Then both your wives and children shall be killed." 



AND OTHER POEMS 131 



These tools of Golo in their minds revolved 
This ofifer of their chief, and then resolved 
To execute the twain as he desired, 
By thirst of blood and filthy lucre fired. 
The men, disguised, unto the Countess came, 
And then in beggar's garb arrayed the same. 
While o'er her face a heavy veil was thrown, 
That she in her disguise might not be known; 
In order that no uproar might be made, 
To follow them in silence they her bade. 

Like as a sheep to slaughter hence is led, 
So Genovefa, weak, with noiseless tread, 
A docile captive, followed these two men 
Unknown to her, and by them to be slain. 
In silence thus upon her arms she bore 
Her little lamb, her infant son, before; 
With mother's love she constantly caressed, 
While to her heart the little child she pressed. 
While she in darkness to the woods was led, 
In direst anguish to the child she said: 
"Oh thou, my heartily beloved child ! 
My cherub dear, thou pure, thou undefiled ! 
Thee had I borne beneath my heart in pain; 
Might I then be allowed to bear again 
Thy slender form upon these arms of mine 
But yet awhile ! But now this blood of thine 
Must rudely by these cruel men be shed 
In innocence and pain, to pay a debt 
Before thou knowest what it is to sin, 
Or comprehend the nature of this thing." 
The words she whispered to her little son. 
To soften seemed the servants' hearts of stone. 
Filled with compassion for the two, these men 
Would gladly have retraced their steps again; 



132 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

But Golo's stern command they must fulfill, 
Or bear the consequence of his will. 

When now in dismal woods they had arrived, 

How best to murder they a plan contrived. 

Selected they a spot unknown to men. 

And there to Genovefa did explain 

That of fadultery she had been found 

With Drago guilty, and for this the Count 

Commanded that she and her child be slain. 

Thus ordered by the steward, these two men 

Were now prepared to execute the same, 

But for this cruel deed were not to blame — 

"So now prepare a happy death to die." 

Then Genovefa, kneeling, did apply 

To God for comfort and protection, when, 

In order their reward to gain, these men 

From her embrace her infant son now tore, 

And rudely on their brawny arms they bore 

The child away, while quickly in the gloom 

Their glittering knives they drew to seal its doom. 

From her unfinished prayer the Countess rose 
Affrighted. Into their arms herself she throws 
And shrieks: "Hold on ! hold on ! O, loved men ! 
Hold on ! let not this guiltless child be slain ! 
But must this blood in innocence be spilled, 
Then I request that I may first be killed ! 
Far worse than death itself to me would be 
My darling in the throes of death to see !" 
On hearing this appeal, the servants stood 
Chagrined, and in a meditative mood; 
But Satan, through their master, Golo, pressed 
Them to commit the crime, so they addressed 
The Countess, and her rudely did command 
Her throat and breast to bare with her own hand. 



AND OTHER POEMS 133 



Affrighted now poor Genovefa stood, 

While tremors rude her feeble body shook; 

Tears down her cheeks their ready courses made, 

While she with faltering voice to these men said : 

"I am prepared to die; but yet. good men. 

Believe ye me, if I must now be slain, 

A dreadful sin you will commit on me. 

I'm innocent, may God my witness be ! 

Falsely accused by Golo have I been, 

Because I'd not commit the wicked sin 

That he of me so much desired, while I 

His base advances spurned and would defy; 

Believe me also, if you spare me, God 

Will give to you and yours your just reward; 

But if you will this feeble body slay, 

While yet you power have this act to stay, 

Then shall my blood, thus shed in innocence. 

Cry unto you and children for revenge," 

Hardhearted as these mercenaries were, 

On hearing this they truly pitied her; 

Their hearts of stone a soft'ning influence felt. 

While they a hasty consultation held. 

To execute the orders of the Count, 

Impossible this cruel task they found; 

So both at once the Countess now addressed — 

In friendly tones these words to her expressed: 

' ' Kind woman ! Our instructions are to slay 

Both you and your dear child without delay; 

If this command by us be not fulfilled, 

Then both of us by Golo may be killed; 

But if you the special promise give, 

That from henceforth you will consent to live 

Remote from people, in these woods concealed, 

That our compassion may not be revealed, 



134 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then in the name of God we'll let you live; 
This solemn promise then to us now give, 
Then in your prayers may ever present be 
The thought, that we in pity set you free." 

With gladness now depicted on her face, 
The Countess, with accomplished woman's grace, 
Her joyful eyes to Heaven in prayer bent, 
With thanks to God for her deliverence sent. 
Then to these men the solemn promise gave; 
She from the wrath of Golo them would save; 
That from henceforth, secluded from all men, 
A hermitess she would in truth remain. 

To prove to Golo that the deed was done, 
A greyhound, that was near, they set upon, 
And having killed it, from their sockets tore 
The lifeless eyes, which they to Golo bore. 
With horror filled— not wishing to behold 
Those eyes that he had loved — these men he told 
To cast them to the dogs— nor deigned to see 
Such hateful eyes filled with adultery. 

Here in these gloomy woods, with her dear son, 

With none to solace, none to lean upon; 

Forsaken by mankind forevermore, 

Yet now was Genovefa free once more. 

With heavy heart her infant child she bore, 

While these wild woods she traveled o'er and o'er, 

To seek some place where she might sheltered be, 

And live forever in obscurity. 

All day she wandered, yet at eventide 

A shelter to herself was still denied. 

Now footsore, weary, in great misery, 

She passed the night beneath a spreading tree; 



AND OTHER POEMS 135 



Her sleepless eyes in tears to Heaven she bent, 
While frost and fright their sore discomfort lent. 

Unconscious in her lap her darling slept, 
While o'er its form the Countess vigil kept 
Until the tints of morn the sky illumed, 
When she her journey in the woods resumed, 
With infant in her arms, close to her breast, 
While through the tangled woods she onward pressed. 
All day she tramped the woods with eager mind 
Some cave, or else some hollow tree to find, 
Where shelter from the storms she might obtain; 
But all her efforts to this end were vain. 

Two days the Countess in the woods had passed, 
When weak from hunger and from thirst, at last 
She was compelled the growing herbs to pluck 
And from the roots the fragrant juice to suck 
In order to revive her waning strength. 
When night approached, a resting place at length 
She sought beneath a spreading tree close by, 
Where she with her beloved son might lie. 
In great distress, and trembling with affright, 
In dread again she passed a sleepless night. 
The third day she her wanderings pursued — 
Still penetrated deeper this wild wood, 
Until she reached the mountain's rocky side, 
When she beheld a cave which opened wide, 
While close by this a bubbling spring gushed forth, 
Which down the hill meandered in its course. 
This cave appeared as though by God 'twere sent 
To shield the Countess, and protection lent. 
With thankful heart she gladly there to came, 
And lor her habitation took the same, 
Resolved that from henceforth she would remain 



136 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Therein, and for her home the same retain. 
Then gathered she some leaves and twigs close by 
To answer for a bed whereon to lie. 

From day to day fresh roots and herbs she found, 
For sustenance, which she dug from the ground. 
But now, with hunger often sorely pressed. 
This scanty sustenance soon dried her breast. 
The famished child, with eagerness, would try 
To draw the liquid she could not supply. 
Until instead of milk the blood would flow. 
Which to it nourishment could not bestow. 
The piteous whines, and moans of her dear son, 
Her heart and feelings so hard wrought upon 
That from pure grief she felt as though she'd die 
Because no nourishment she could supply. 
In deep despair she took her little babe, 
And on a bed of leaves that she had made 
She laid its slender form, and then withdrew, 
A distance, where its form she could not view, 
Or hear its feeble whines and moans for food. 
Here on her knees in earnest, anxious mood. 
With hands uplifted to the Lord for aid. 
In grief and pity for her child she prayed: 
"My God! Redeemer! can Thy gracious eyes 
Observe the guiltless babe that yonder lies 
Emaciated, for the lack of food. 
Which I cannot secure in this wild wood ? 
Canst hear its tender voice so plaintive whine 
And 5'et not pity this poor child of mine ? 
See Thou the lamb which there before Thee lies! 
And for its necessary food still cries; 
Be merciful when Thou its cries dost hear. 
And show compassion to my child so dear; 
Whose father now in anger would disown, 



AND OTHER POEMS 137 



While to his son no mercy yet has shown. 

Help my dear boy and succor to him send, 

And still the wails that I cannot prevent. 

No consolation now to me is left 

But this my only son. If once bereft 

Of him, then I must pine and die while here 

In this deep wilderness, so dark and drear. 

Therefore I pray Thee, Lord, restore to me 

My son again, and I will surely see 

That he will serve and honor Thee alway." 

Scarce had the Countess finished this appeal 
To God, His tender mercies to reveal. 
When to her eager gaze a hind appeared 
From yonder thicket, and her infant near; 
To her in actions plain it seemed to say: 
"I'm sent by God th}^ darling's life to stay." 
The Countess saw with great astonishment, 
That God to her this timid hind had sent, 
And so she hastened back to where her child 
Among the leaves lay famished — undefiled. 
The hind upon her footsteps followed near — 
Though wild by nature, showed of her no fear. 
Then to the teats her darling she applied 
Until the child itself had satisfied. 
The nourishment supplied by this wild beast. 
To Schmerzenreich now proved a royal feast. 
Upon her knees the Countess in great joy, 
Thanked God for this deliverance of her boy, 
While copious tears of gladness to her eyes 
Responsive came for her dear son's supplies; 
In great humility she urged the Lord 
That He continued succor should afford. 
God heard her fervent prayers, for twice each day 
The hind returned, gave suck, then went away; 



138 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

And thus for seven long years this faithful beast 
Supplied the guiltless boy with this rich feast, 
Which was sufficient to sustain the child, 
While with his mother in this gloomy wild. 

The Countess was obliged for seven long years 
To live on roots and herbs, oft shedding tears 
Of sadness when her thoughts reverted back 
To former days of joy, with naught to lack; 
When mistress of the castle with the Count 
In that dear home she joy and pleasure found. 
When taken from the palace of the Count 
And brought to this dark wilderness, she found 
This gloomy cave to serve as resting place, 
To pass her future sad and gloomy days; 
Kind friends then gathered round the festive board, 
And whiled away the hours in pleasant sport, 
While now in this dark unforbidding cave 
Wild beasts and serpents constant terror gave. 

Deprived of means this dismal cave to light, 

In deepest gloom she passed each separate night, 

While in the castle shone, in colors bright. 

Rich chandeliers, in soft and mellow light; 

In her own chamber, on her downy bed 

Soft pillows served to rest her drowsy head; 

While in this cave, with naught but leaves for bed, 

Or twigs and boughs to rest her aching head. 

The costly pearls and diamonds she wore 

When with the Count, and Countess' honors bore 

Were now replaced by bitter tears of woe. 

Which neither hope nor comfort could bestow. 

In her forced exile from the human race, 

To live and die in this secluded place. 

While nature was in summer's garb arrayed 



AND OTHER POEMS 139 



Then were the growing plants and herbs displayed; 
These she could gather, and her wants supply 
From the abundant store of herbs close by, 
But now, when winter time was drawing near. 
With meager sustenance, and garments spare, 
Her sufferings became intense, for now 
Her source of nourishment was covered with snow, 
Which from her view her sole supply of food 
concealed. And when a spot in this bleak wood, 
B)' eager search beneath the snow she found. 
That herbs or roots contained, the frozen ground, 
No proper tools she had wherewith to break 
To free them, that of them she might partake. 
Benumbed with cold, from garments spare she wore, 
The sluggish blood would circulate no more, 
Until by friction with her icy hands 
The blood responsive, flowed to heart's demands, 
The lonely nights she passed cold and distressed. 
With her dear child upon her chilly breast, 
Whose hunger, with a loving mother's heart. 
She fain would still, but now could not impart 
To her dear Schmerzenreich, the lacteal food, 
Of which he in such pressing need oft stood. 

As time and age his reason did unfold, 

And he perceived his misery, untold. 

The anguish of the mother became great 

For her dear son in his poor, wretched state. 

How oft she pressed his weak and slender form 

Against her breast his stiffened limbs to warm! 

And when she saw his shivering body lie 

On bed of gathered leaves and twigs, close by, 

No longer could she willing tears restrain. 

Nor from her grief for her dear child refrain. 

Observing this young Schmerzenreich then wept, 



I40 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

And to his troubled mother closer crept. 

His childish mind could not yet comprehend 

The cause of this great grief she underwent. 

But as he older grew, and waxed in strength, 

Inured to hardships, and cold air, at length 

Poor Geneveive became more reconciled 

To her own state, and sufferings of her child; 

Then thanked she God that she and son were led 

Into these woods by Him, and by Him fed. 

Her time was mostly spent in holy prayer. 

More earnest, more devout, while cared for there. 

Once while she knelt before her cave in prayer, 
With eyes transfixed on Heaven in her despair, 
Astonished, then she saw a wondrous sight: 
An angel floating down in purest white; 
While in his hands, most beautiful, he bore 
A cross, on which the Saviour we adore. 
Was nailed. Of finest ivory 'twas made; 
With onyx and with sparkling pearls inlaid; 
This cross to her he handed, and thus said: 
"Accept this Holy Cross, Genovefa, 
Which thy Redeemer has from heaven sent. 
To comfort and console thee to the end. 
In Him, as in a mirror, shalt thou see 
Thyself, when thou to Him dost bend thy knee 
In prayer. With this fair cross thyself console 
When grief and sorrow flit across thy soul ; 
When tempted, then to Him shalt fly for aid; 
And when at times impatient at thy state, 
Remember with what fortitude the One 
His sufferings bore, whom thou dost look upon, 
As on the cross suspended here He hangs." 

These words, when now the angel had addressed 
To her, the cross into the rocks he pressed, 



AND OTHER POEMS 141 



And vanished from her sight. The cross remained, 

With the Redeemer's image it contained. 

This Genovefa bore into the cave, 

Wherein she found an altar in the nave, 

Formed out of rocks, by nature's sculptor planned. 

Whereon she placed the cross with her own hand. 

Then cast herself in humbleness before 

The cross, that her Redeemer's image bore, 

Which she intently scanned from head to foot. 

Of self forgetful, in her solitude; 

And filled with pity for the Saviour's sake, 

With grief intense, as though her heart would break. 

Her greatest comfort in the cross she found, 

And to the cross made known her grief profound; 

In summer this with wreathes and flowers hung, 

That from the soil at nature's bidding sprung; 

And when bleak winter o'er the forest spread; 

When flowers bloomed no more, and verdure dead. 

Then with wild vines and laurel, this would wind 

With evergreens, and juniper entwined. 



As time passed on, and months their courses sped, 
Young Schmerzenreich, by nature amply fed, 
Waxed strong and grew, and soon commenced to walk. 
And taught by Genovefa, learned to talk. 
How eager now her darling son she taught! 
This to her mind great consolation brought, 
To know that now her child could comprehend. 
And in converse her dreary moments spent. 
He quick to comprehend whate'er she taught, 
With mind prepared by nature and by God, 
Showed intellect beyond his tender years. 
This to her often brought unbidden tears, 
When she beheld her child now almost nude. 



142 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

As shivering in the cold he by her stood. 

The clothes that with her she had brought were torn 

From constant usage since the child was born. 

Then next from her own garments parts she tore — 

His nudity to hide her son these wore 

Until in tatters from his limbs they fell. 

No garments now to hide their nakedness, 

Both mother and her child, in their distress 

In moss and twigs their sole protection found, 

With skillful hands around their bodies wound. 

With naught to comfort her, none to befriend, 

The lyord to her a wolf on errand sent 

With sheep's skin, that from some stray ewe was torn, 

And by the wolf close to the cave was borne, 

Where it was dropped close to the affrighted boy — 

A pleasing object for a mother's joy. 

With thanks to God for this protection sent. 

The woman took the robe and with it went 

To Schmerzenreich, whose form she in it wound. 

From this time on wild beasts would now appear. 

Nor of the woman showed they signs of fear; 

Before the cave, fearless, they came by day, 

And with 3'oung Schmerzenreich would romp and play. 

The wolf that brought to him the fleecy hide 

Would give the youngster many a pleasant ride 

Upon his back; and often he was found 

To play with rabbits that were hopping 'round. 

Upon his hands and head birds would alight. 

And son and mother with their songs delight. 

When he went forth his mother herbs to find, 

Wild beasts, now won to him by treatment kind, 

Would show the spot, by pawing up the ground, 

When choicest herbs could easily be found. 



AND OTHER POEMS 143 



The holy mother found unceasing joy, 
In conversation with her darling boy — 
Astonished, often, at the knowledge shown, 
When he to questions made the answers known. 
The prayer of prayers she taught him now to pray; 
And other prayers taught him day by day. 
But never told him, through great circumspect, 
From whence his origin — what race, or sect, 
That she in him might not create desire 
For worldly lust, or kindle latent fire. 

Once while in conversation with her boy, 
Young Schmerzenreich, her idol and her joy, 
Said to her: "Mother, you taught me to say, 
'Our Father who art in Heaven,' when I pray. 
So tell me now, where is my father dear. 
That I may worship him in love and fear?" 
"Dear child," she said, "your Father is the One 
That dwells above, where shines the moon and sun." 
"Does then my Father know me ? And if so. 
Can He now see me while I'm here below?" 
"He surely does, and cares for j^ou in love," 
His mother said. "Yet still He reigns above." 
"Why is it then that He does not provide, 
But suffers us in want here to abide ?" 
"Dear son," said Genovefa, "we are here 
Upon the earth the Lord to love and fear. 
We in this vale of misery were brought, 
To suffer much, as children of our God; 
But when, at last, in heaven we appear. 
Through joy and peace our griefs will disappear," 
Spoke Schmerzenreich: "Has then my Father here 
More sons than I, who Him shall love and fear?" 
"In truth He has," she said. Then he again 
Of her inquired: "Tell me where are they then ? 



144 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

None but myself, and you, I thought were here; 
Tell me where are they ? Are they far or near ?" 
Then Genovefa to him answering said: 
"Although you in your lifetime here have stayed 
In these dark woods, yet you should surely know, 
That were we from these dismal woods to go, 
Fine habitations then would meet our gaze. 
Where many dwell, of good and evil ways; 
Some good and true amongst these people dwell. 
But some, with evil ways, descend to hell, 
Wherein eternal torment be their fate." 
Then presently the lad of her inquired 
(With wonder filled, and thirst of truth inspired): 
"Then tell me mother, why should we not go 
Amongst those people whom I yearn to know? 
Why longer tarry in these wood alone?" 
"We do this," Genovefa answering said, 
"That we can serve our Heavenly Father yet 
Still better, and be sure of our reward 
In heaven above, for having served the Lord." 
Such words as these the lad to her addressed. 
And for an answer urged her— strongly pressed; 
To him she then revealed her tale of woe. 
And of her treatment by the vile Golo. 

When seven years their courses nigh had sped 
That in the cave her hermitage she'd made, 
The Countess fell a victim to disease, 
With none to comfort her, nor pain to ease. 
While there she lay, in her emaciate state, 
In want of nourishment, and sufferings great, 
A burning fever racked her weary brain. 
Until scarce able to endure the pain. 
When now poor Schmerzenreich, forsaken, saw 
His mother slowly dying, filled with awe. 



AND OTHER POEMS 145 



He fell upon her body, and in doubt 

And fear of her recovery cried out: 

"What shall I do, dear mother? Where shall I 

Seek shelter and protection if you die ? 

In these dark woods then will I be alone, 

For in this world none other have I known. 

Pray to the Lord, that He may let you live. 

And give you succor that I cannot give; 

For perish must I needs, without your aid." 

The dying Genovefa sought to find 

Frail comfort for the son to ease his mind. 

She then disclosed to him these facts, and said: 

"Grieve not for me, nor mourn, when I am dead; 

Nor yet lament o'er your forsaken state; 

There may be others that can give you aid. 

Besides your Heavenly Father, you must know 

That you have yet a father here below, 

Who dwells beyond these woods, not far from here, 

In princely splendor, in the town of Trier. 

To him proceed at once when I am gone, 

And plainly tell him that you are his son. 

He readily will know your features then, 

For your resemblance to him is quite plain; 

And none can fail to recognize his son. 

To him her great misfortune she then told; 

Her tortures, and her grief she did unfold 

In such plain words that he could comprehend; 

Then bid him promise her, before the end. 

That he would not seek vengeance for her wrongs." 

Exhausted, by these undue efforts made, 

The Countess passed into a slumbering state. 

While thus she laj' in peaceful slumber there, 

It seems to her as though two angels, fair. 



146 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Came to her as she slumbered in her cave. 
Then one of them to her this comfort gave: 
"You shall not die, but live, your end is not! 
To you this message bring we from your God," 
This said, they vanished from her sight again. 
Then woke she from her slumber, free from pain — 
Now strengthened with new life and hope again. 
When Schmerzenreich this change observed, he gave 
Renewed attention to his mother — her to save. 
As hour by hour her strength came back again 
Until restored. 



To Siegfried let us now return once more. 

Who came from Strasburg when the war was o'er, 

To Trier, where his spacious castle stood. 

Repose to seek in his dejected mood. 

Deceitful Golo then the Count addressed, 

And for his sorrow deep concern expressed; 

Then told him that his wife and child were taken 

To distant woods, by night, where both were slain. 

With this the Count seemed pleased, but yet amazed, 

While he the foresight of the Stewart praised. 

This seemed to satisfy his troubled mind 

For a time. Ere many days, we find 

His conscience smote him with the painful thought. 

That he on her had hasty vengeance brought; 

'Twere possible injustice her was shown. 

When Golo had those facts to him made known. 

He saw that he had sinned against her, when 

He ordered that his wife and child be slain — 

Believing her steeped in adultery, 

Without investigating thoroughly 

The case. The following night he had a dream. 



AND OTHER POEMS 147 



He saw a dragon fierce, with fiery gleam, 
His consort drag away, and none to aid 
Her. To recover her none efforts made. 
This dream his fears and terror still increased; 
But soon his troubled conscience was appeased, 
For when, to Golo, he his dream made known, 
(Who to him had such faithful service shown). 
The artful steward this interpretation made: 
"The dragon that you saw in dreamy state, 
None other was than Drago, once your cook, 
Who with the Countess sinful liberties look, 
And her affections from yourself estranged." 

Golo upon his lordship's conscience wrought. 
Advising him to give these dreams no thought — 
That they were caused by an excited brain, 
Which robbed him of the sleep he should obtain; 
To rest assured that they had well deserved 
A death more horrible. 
The steward sought, in divers wa5^s, to find 
Some method to divert Count Siegfried's mind; 
He instituted feasts, and games, and plays. 
Appointed dances, and in other ways 
Sought to amuse the Count and ease his mind. 
To all of which his willing ear inclined; 
But these his wounded heart could never heal, 
Nor from his troubled conscience thoughts dispel 
Which constantly grew stronger, day by day — 
These neither joy nor mirth could drive away. 

One day the Count went to his consort's room, 
Alone to worship in the silent gloom. 
He found the letter that the Countess wrote. 
Which by the little girl had there been brought, 
And hid amongst the papers lying there. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Amazed, he opened it, and read with care 

The Hnes addressed to him in her despair, 

While yet a prisoner in Golo's care. 

Great was the anguish of his wretched soul; 

While fast flowed tears, which he could not control 

For the remorse that he so keenly felt, 

For having in her case so rashly dealt. 

Convinced was he that she was innocent, 

And that his wrath on guiltless blood was spent; 

That Colo was untrue to him seemed plain, 

Nor could he longer from his wrath refrain. 

A false accuser, and a murderer. 

Pronounced he Golo. He, the guilty cur, 

Would pierce through his abominable heart, 

If he not from his castle would depart. 

The cunning Golo, from afar, divined 

The thoughts revolving in Count Siegfried's mind; 

Then from the Count, with eager haste, he fled, 

With curses heaped upon his guilty head; 

Nor yet again returned, by fear dismayed, 

Until Count Siegfried's anger was allayed. 

When he again returned to serve the Count, 
With cunning words and artful ways, he found 
That Siegfried doubted now what he had read. 
But placed more confidence in what he said. 
"Genovefa, " he said, "has testified 
That she was innocent. She has denied 
That she was guilty of this great offence 
For which she was condemned to die, and hence 
Will you believe what she had wrote, when I 
A witness to her conduct was, and nigh ? 
A weak defence ! Will lying, then, set free ? 
All criminals and liars make that plea. 



AND OTHER POEMS 149 



Adulterers and thieves are innocent !" 

Thus on the conscience of the Count he wrought, 

And thus himself in his good graces brought. 

As time wore on, his peace of mind once more 

Commenced to waver as it had before, 

And smote his troubled conscience day by day, 

Which at his bidding ne'er would pass away. 

It seemed to him as though a voice most clear 

Was ever ringing in his list'ning ear: 

" 'Twas by your orders that j^our wife was slain; 

Likewise the child, in innocence. The twain 

Were murdered, without cause, by your commands; 

The blood of Drago rests upon your hands." 

These words his conscience troubled day by day. 

As to and fro he went his lonesome way. 

This melancholy state of Siegfried's mind, 

By cunning Golo clearly was divined; 

There longer to remain in his employ 

Might all his future happiness destroy; 

He might be apprehended by the Count, 

And guilty of those horrid crimes be found. 

In secret, then, he made a hasty flight, 

And left the country in the dead of night. 



Some time thereafter, in a field was found 
Plain evidence, among some loosened ground, 
That there a corpse lay buried at the spot — 
A victim of some dark and cruel plot. 
Then men dug up at once the yielding ground, 
Where they the body of poor Drago found, 
As proved by marks upon his body known, 
Whom Golo killed, and in this grave had thrown. 
The Count the body of the cook beheld. 
And of his innocence his doubts dispelled; 



ISO ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

He by some means unnatural had died, 
Some crime of Golo in his death to hide. 

A few years after this, the sorceress, 

Who had deceived the Count with her address, 

And in deceptive ways to him unknown, 

Of Drago with his wife had pictures shown, 

Which were intended to deceive the Count, 

Was apprehended, and was guilty found 

Of base deception with her secret art, 

Through which she brought mistrust to Siegfried's heart, 

And sentenced to be burned. Before she died 

She guilty plead, and to the charge replied : 

"The Countess and the cook were innocent, 

This I confess — to Siegfried be it sent. ' ' 

She begged that Siegfried these plain facts should know. 

That she was tempted by Golo to show 

These pictures artful, by her secret powers. 

These words to Siegfried in post-haste were brought, 

Then saw he clearly how the snares were wrought 

By Golo, to deceive him, and mislead, 

To get consent to consummate the deed 

He contemplated to perform. 

Remorse, compassion, anger filled his soul. 

Thirst for revenge, that he could not control, 

Now urged him on in his attempts to seek 

This wicked man, and on him vengeance wreak. 

But where to find him was he now to go ? 

For he had left him two full years ago 

For parts unknown. How could the fox be caught? 

Then of a list of names himself bethought. 

When he was found in secret parts remote. 

The Count to him a friendly letter wrote. 

In which he great surprise expressed that he 



AND OTHER POEMS 151 



Should leave his sendee thus so secretly, 

Where naught but love and honor he enjoyed. 

Evasive, cautious words Golo employed, 

When he an answer to this letter sent. 

To family circumstances that event, 

Quite unavoidable to him, was due. 

Then did the Count his letters oft renew, 

In language couched to gain his confidence; 

In order that he might not take offence, 

Kind words he used when to the knave he wrote — 

His former steward, now from him remote; 

Referring often to the scenes of joy, 

That happened when he was in his employ. 

This correspondence lasted several years. 
Until Count Siegfried had allayed his fears, 
And he believed that, with his pleasing ways, 
He with the Count had found undoubted grace. 

The time was drawing nigh to celebrate 

The feast of "Triple Kings," in regal state. 

Then many invitations out were sent. 

To kings and potentates, with good intent, 

To join the hunt, before the ro5^al feast, 

For stag, or boar, or hind, or some wild beast. 

To Golo he an invitation sent 

To join in with the rest, on pleasure bent. 

Then rushed the dupe, with free and haughty air. 

Headlong and blind, into the well-laid snare. 

Count Siegfried welcomed him with pleasant air. 

And introduced him to the assemblage there, 

With whom, and with the Count, for several days, 

Golo was entertained in various ways; 

As though 'twixt both there never had been known 

A cause for anger, by politeness shown. 



152 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Full seven long years their courses now had sped, 

That Genovefa in the cave had made 

Her home. To all the world and mankind dead — 

Forgotten now— no tears for her were shed. 

The time to celebrate the feast drew nigh. 

That Siegfried might his table well supply 

With rarities of every kind, he led 

The hunt, and with his servants onward sped 

Through woods and moors, with Golo 'mongst the rest. 

One here, one there, from dale to mountain crest, 

Some wild beasts to dislodge. By chance the Count 

A hind, from thicket dense, saw onward bound. 

This followed he by horse, with quickened pace; 

Through briers and through woodland, led the chase, 

Until the hind approached a rugged spot, 

And disappeared, but where the Count knew not. 

Then he approached, and there, by brush concealed, 

A cave was to his eager eyes revealed. 

He peered within, and saw, in obscure light, 

The hind he chased, and by its trembling side 

A woman nude, and ghastly pale, there stood. 

He halted, spell-bound, in affrighted mood, 

As though some spectre or some evil fiend 

Was standing there beside the timid hind. 

O'erawed by fear the Count the cross then made 
By gestures plain, and in amazement said : 
"If thou of God art here, then come to me, 
And tell me plainly who thou mayest be." 

Then Genovefa (she it was who stood 
Within the cave in trembling attitude) 
Knew at a glance the Count, and to him said: 
' 'I am of God a creature, yet am I 
A naked, luckless child of destiny; 



AND OTHER POEMS 153 



Desirest thou that I should come to thee, 

Then throw thy flowing mantle here to me, 

That with it I my nakedness may hide." 

The Count removed the mantle from his side. 

And threw it to the woman in the cave. 

With this her wasted form she wrapped around, 

And from the cave came forth to meet the Count, 

With the affrighted hind close by her side. 

(Young Schmerzenreich had gone through woodland wide 

In quest of roots and herbs). The Count with awe 

Was filled when he this ghastly figure saw. 

Then asked her who she was, and whence she came. 

"My lord," said Genoveive, "I am a dame 

Of good descent — in Brabant I was born. 

But now of riches and of honor shorn. 

Out of necessity have I here stayed, 

That m)' blood, and my child's, might not be shed." 

A tremor shook his frame, yet asked he now: 

"How long ago since this was done, and how? 

Tell me how this thing happened, by what aid?" 

Then Genovefa courage took, and said : 
"I once was married to a noble Count, 
With whom alone true happiness I found. 
But he was jealous and mistrusted me — 
Me ! who had loved him so devotedly. 
He to the steward then instructions gave 
(A willing tool, he, and a treacherous knave) 
To take me and the little child, that I 
Had to him born, and slay us secretly. 
The servants took compassion on us when 
They were about to murder us. These men 
I then gave promise that I never would 
Return again to him; that in this wood 



154 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Alone I'd serve the Lord. This have I done — 
These seven years alone, save with my son." 

Count Siegfried's body trembled o'er and o'er, 

For Genovefa's picture rose before 

His guilty soul, but in her wasted state 

Her former self he could not reinstate. 

Therefore in doubting words he to her spoke 

And said : "Dear woman, I the Lord invoke, 

That thou to me thy Christian name make known, 

And of thy wedded lord, how he was known ?" 

Then Genovefa, .sighing, made reply: 

"His name Siegfried, a noble Count, while I, 

Poor creature, called myself Genovefa. " 

As though a thunderbolt had struck the Count, 

From off his horse, upon the rocky ground, 

Unconscious down upon his face he fell 

And lay like as one dead. 

When consciousness returned to him again. 

He raised his head from off the ground, and then 

To her he said, (recumbent, while he lay,) 

"Genovefa ! Oh, my Genovefa ! 

Then is it thee?" She answering made reply: 

"My dearest lord, Siegfried ! Yes, it is I, 

Poor Genovefa !" 

Unbidden tears down Siegfried's visage rolled — 
Tears of remorse that would not be controlled; 
Then swooned again as he had done before, 
And lay awhile before he could speak more. 
To calm his troubled mind he efforts made. 
Then kneeling there before her, Sigfried said: 
"Oh, would that God compassion show to me ! 
In such a wretched state must I see thee — 



AND OTHER POEMS 155 



I, wicked wretch ! I am not worth that me 

This earth should bear ! Yes, I deserve to see 

That it should open up and swallow me. 

I am the cause of all thy misery — 

I, sinful man, that had mistrusted thee !. 

Thee ordered to be murdered secretly, 

And thou so pure, so innocent ! 

Beloved Genovefa, pardon me, 

For Jesus' sake, whose image there I see 

Suspended on 3'on cross — not for my sake. 

Here on my knees to thee this vow I make, 

That I will not arise until from thee 

My pardon I shall have received." 

Her tears the Countess struggled to restrain, 
And to the Count replied in broken strain: 
"Grieve not so much for me, my lord, grieve not; 
'Twas not thy fault, but by the will of God, 
That I was in these gloomy woods misplaced. 
Nor fault of mine that I should be disgraced; 
With all my heart do I forgive thee — more, 
I had forgiven thee this long before. 
This thought, then, let us cherish evermore; 
The Lord in mercy will our prayers hear; 
He to His children ever will be near; 
Apply to Him in trouble, He will aid — 
He will forgive thee," Genovefa said. 

Her hand she then extended to the Count, 

And with his aid then raised him from the ground. 

There stood the Count, with head in sorrow bared. 

And in the features of his consort stared; 

He felt as though for great compassion's sake, 

For her, in her distress, his heart would break. 

As he beheld the features of his wife. 



156 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Angelic once, witli health and beauty rife, 

Now so emaciated, so haggard; 

He felt such reverence, and such regard 

For Genoveive there in the solitude, 

As though from heaven some holy one there stood.' 

While though to him she kindest friendship showed, 

With troubled heart, and deepest sorrow bowed, 

Scarce ventured he to speak between his sighs, 

While there he stood and gazed into her eyes. 

At last he said, with accents slow and mild: 

"And where, then, is the poor, the little child 

That you gave birth to in the prison cell ? 

Is it not living now, or is it well ?" 

"The child is living, certainly, and well," 

From quivering lips of Genovefa fell. 

"Alone I could not nourishment supply. 

But God to me and mine was ever nigh; 

Twice daily did He send to me this hind, 

That daily twice, with faithfulness so kind, 

Gave suck to my dear boy." 

While yet she spoke young Schmerzenreich, her child. 
In sheepskin clad, barefoot, with features wild. 
Approached them, with his hands with wild roots filled. 
He faltered, while his soul with fear was chilled. 
When he the Count saw standing there, and cried: 
"What wild man, mother, is that by your side?" 
To which his mother sw^eetly then replied : 
"Fear not of him, my own beloved son; 
Come fearlessly to me, come quickly on. 
He wall not injure you." 

Then filled his soul with sorrow and with joy. 
When Siegfried saw approaching that dear boy; 
With sorrow that himself had caused this state. 
Through rumors false — false statements to him made; 



AND OTHER POEMS 157 



With joy o'er wife and son again restored, 
On which he blessings from the Lord implored. 
When now the child had reached his mother's side, 
She took him by the hand and to him said : 
"Behold, my son, this is your father, dear; 
Go take his hand and kiss it without fear. ' ' 

The child did as .she bade him. Then the Count, 
With tenderness his son raised from the ground. 
And passionately to his heart him pressed, 
And kissed him long, and lovingly caressed, 
Unable he to speak or utter more, 
While in his sturdy arms his son he bore, 
Than "O, beloved son ! my treasured child !" 
A long time had the Count embraced his sou, 
Till he was satisfied, and thereupon 
A piercing blast into his horn he blew. 
Which hunters and attendants quickly drew 
Together, one by one, with wonder filled, 
When in his arms they saw the little child, 
And the wild woman meekly by his side. 
"What think you of this woman, pale and white? 
Her you should well remember," spoke the Count. 
To closest scrutiny, while standing 'round, 
Was she subjected b}^ them all, but none 
Her features recognized. He thereupon 
Of them inquir}^ made: "Do you not know 
M}' Genovefa?" Then said, bowing low, 
" 'Tis she that now before you meekly stands. 
With features ghastly pale, and wasted hands. 
She from her home was rudely torn away, 
These seven years in these wild woods to stay; 
Through accusations false was she disgraced — 
In these inhospitable woods here placed." 



158 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

When he these words had spoken, still and mute 
With wonder the assembled hunters stood; 
Then one by one drew near and her addressed 
In tones of friendship, and their joy expressed 
That she yet lived, for now, these seven years 
They of the castle had been shedding tears; 
For all had mourned for her — all thought her dead. 
Then two of tbem on fleetest horses sped, 
To Siegfried's castle for a Sedan chair, 
And raiment to procure for her to wear. 

Of those who answered Siegfried's clarion call, 
Golo appeared behind the others all; 
Alone he lingered in the woods, in awe. 
As though to him some evil he foresaw. 
Two servants Siegfried sent Golo to meet, 
Requesting him to haste, with quickened speed; 
That he had chased, and thus to bay had brought 
A wonderful rare beast, which he then caught. 
When Golo hastened on to meet the rest. 
Count Siegfried greeted him, and him addressed: 
"Golo, tell me, do you this woman know?" 
"I know her not," then answering said Golo. 

Then further spoke the Count, and to him said: 

"Thou lawless, vicious villain ! by your aid 

The one that you to me falsely accused; 

That you yourself so shamefully abused; 

That your paid hirelings here had brought to slay, 

Yet say 3'OU do not know Genovefa ? 

You murderer ! V/hat cruel punishment 

Shall I inflict upon you ? What torment 

Shall I impose for this most hideous crime?" 



AND OTHER POEMS 159 



A guilty wretch there, writhing, lay Golo, 
And begged he should compassion on him show; 
But now, with dreadful anger filled, the Count 
His servants ordered that Golo be bound, 
And as the greatest malefactor led, 
A prisoner to castle of Siegfried. 

Count Siegfried then to Genovefa said: 

"Allow yourself to be returned in state, 

Back to the castle." But before they went, 

Before the cave, to crucifix, she bent 

Her knees and thanked the Lord for mercies shown 

While in the cave she'd made her humble home ; 

Then gladly took she Siegfried's proffered hand, 

Who led her down the sleep and rocky land. 

The young Count, by a noble horseman borne. 

Followed behind the rest — a noble born. 

Gay birds flew over Genovefa' s head 

With fluttering wings, as round they circling sped. 

As though they would dispute Count Siegfried's right 

To take the two away out of their sight. 

The hind kept close to Genovefa's side, 

As on they went o'er rocks, through woodland wide, 

Until they came to where the Sedan chair 

Was waiting, with the sturdy men to bear 

Their precious charge, in which she then was placed; 

Their steps then homeward the procession traced. 

The news soon spread o'er all the country round 
That Genovefa had again been found. 
Her countrymen, the young as well as old, 
Were eager each her features to behold; 
Pedestrians some, and some by fleetest horse. 
Invited guests, and friends, came by the scores; 
And well they might, for now she was restored, 



i6o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

When long ago her death they had deplored, 
As though by wondrous ways of Providence 
The Lord had thus revealed her innocence. 

The greetings being over, then began 
The feast, prepared for the assembled clan, 
Which lasted seven days before 'twas o'er. 
But Genovefa could enjoy no more 
The delicacies that were daily spread. 
Nor taste the wine of purest vintage made; 
Now naught but herbs could she assimilate. 

When now the festive week was well nigh spent, 
Count Siegfried servants to the dungeon sent. 
And had Golo before the assemblage brought, 
For them to judge what punishment he ought 
To suffer, while to them he then made known 
The violence his consort he had shown. 
The whole relationship cried vengeance dire 
Be meted out to this most foul betrayer — 
A death most terrible should be his fate. 

The wicked wretch at Genovefa's feet 

Fell prostrate, and of her for mercy plead; 

She bid the Count that he should mercy show, 

Now that humiliated was Golo. 

Count Siegfried might have granted this request. 

Were it not for the counsel of the rest 

Of his acquaintances assembled there; 

These would not sanction that he Golo spare, 

Lest some might say, hereafter, that Golo 

Was innocent of such a crime, and so 

None dare his guiltless blood to shed. 

Then he was slain , and all those shared his fate 

Who had connived with Golo. With the sword 



AND OTHER POEMS i6i 



They were dispatched, while all those gained reward 

Who faithful to the Countess had remained — 

These costly gifts from Siegfried all obtained. 

The little maid who pen and ink supplied, 

Wherewith the Countess could to Siegfried write 

The letter that she in the chamber laid, 

Was well rewarded for her secret aid. 

The ser\'ants also who her life had spared — 

The living one, the other's children shared 

The bounty of the Count. 



The festivals were ended, guests all gone; 

The Countess and the Count were now alone. 

Save servants and attendants of the Count, 

Who with him, and his spouse, had favor found. 

Hereafter Genovefa and the Count 

In holy worship greatest pleasure found. 

To serve her well was Siegfried's chief desire. 

While in his love, angelic like, his fire. 

The highest honors on her he bestowed 

That could a prince's consort be allowed; 

But she, in earthly honors, no more found 

True pleasure, with her people and the Count; 

Her wasted form, from deprivations sore, 

Left no desire, nor cares for this life more. 

Scarce three months had she passed in her new state 

With her dear lord, endowed with honors great, 

When she became enraptured while at prayer. 

A vision, wondrous bright, extremely fair, 

Appeared to her. A host of holy maids. 

And cherubims, and angels, with their aids; 

And virgins fair, in robes of purest white, 

And in their midst Magdalene glorified 



i62 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Appeared. Each one of them to her a flower 

Then gave, which they had phicked from heaven's bower 

The Queen of Heaven bore in her hand:^ a crown 

Inlaid with costly pearls and precious stone, 

And said to her: "Beloved daughter, now 

Behold the crown that I to you would show; 

This you have won through faith, while suff'ring sore, 

While in the woods the crown of thorns you wore. 

Accept this from my hands, for it is time 

Eternity, with joy, you now should claim. 

Then placed upon her head the heavenly crown, 

And vanished with her escort heavenward. 

This vision filled her soul with joy and peace. 
She felt assured her troubles soon would cease — 
Her misery would now soon be at end. 
To her dear lord, the Count, her dearest friend, 
She dared not now make known the joy she found, 
That he might not be grieved on her account. 

But Genovefa had not long to wait 

Before the vision, in her feeble state. 

Was verified; for in her sufferings great 

She sank into an adynamic state. 

In which no medicine could give relief. 

Count Siegfried and his son were filled with grief 

When they became aware that she must die — 

That greatest skill could not her health supply. 

"Beloved Genovefa !" cried the Count, 

"Wilt thou so soon depart from me ? Scarce found, 

And yet so soon with sorrow fill my heart ? 

Pray God that we may not so quickl}'' part; 

Compassion show in my great misery, 

And bid the Lord that He may let thee be 

A helpmeet and companion for a while." 



AND OTHER POEMS 163 



Then Genovefa, with a feeble smile, 

Said to the Count: "Grieve not so much for me, 

My dearest lord, though I should die, but be 

Consoled; for naught can this avail, yet will 

My weary soul, with thine, with sorrow fill. 

Thou seest it cannot now be otherwise, 

For soon my home will be in Paradise; 

Therefore the will of God to us be done. 

What in my death my thoughts most dwell upon 

Is that thyself and my beloved son — 

My Schmerzenreich, I must bewailing see — 

Both anxious and solicitous for me. 

Were both consoled then could I die in peace; 

This fleeting breath, these feeble heart beats cease - 

This miserable life could I exchange 

For an immortal one. ' ' 

From this time on the Countess passed her hours 
In true devotion, with her waning powers; 
All those within the castle, 'round her bed 
She had assembled, with uncovered head; 
A mother's blessing then she gave them all — 
The highest of the court, and children small. 
From Schmerzenreich, the idol of her heart, 
It pained her sorely thus from him to part. 
On him her richest blessing she bestowed; 
This done, then from her feeble body flowed 
Her spirit into everlasting life. 
Upon the corpse of his beloved wife 
Lamenting, Siegfried, with his little son, 
Fell, moaning for the dear departed one. 
All inmates of the castle joined the Count, 
Bewailing their great loss in grief profound. 
Nor could the Count upwelling tears restrain, 
As there, by day and night, he knelt again 



164 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Beside her body, and the Lord implored 
That she again to him might be restored. 
Vain pleadings these, for now, beyond the skies, 
Her soul was glorified in Paradise. 

The faithful hind, in truth by God ordained, 
That Schmerzenreich so often had sustained, 
With Genovefa to the castle went. 
And cared for there by her devoted friend, 
Went forth then with the sad and mournful train, 
With drooping head and with dejected mein. 
Her plaintive bleatings, mournful on her part, 
With pity filled each sad and tender heart. 

Interment over, then the funeral train 
Back to the castle took the route again. 
But not the hind — this at the grave remained 
In seeming grief— of sustenance refrained. 
And thus in sorrow pined and died. 

With holy Genovefa was interred 

The joy that had Count Siegfried's bosom stirred; 

Contentment now no more could Siegfried find, 

To ease his conscience or to calm his mind; 

And often at her grave, in constant prayer, 

Upon his knees he passed his time while there; 

Then to her chamber he would oft repair, 

With doors barred closely while he lingered there; 

Then spoke in tones as though before his eyes 

Stood Genovefa, though in Paradise, 

And begged forgiveness from his holy wife 

For having persecuted her in life. 

The cave, where she had passed those dreadful years, 
In solitude, he visited, while tears 
Flowed down his cheeks, while there before the cross. 
Upon his knees, bemoaned he his great loss. 



AND OTHER POEMS 165 



* 'This is the cave, that, with faint sighs and tears, 
The innocent departed filled these years; 
'Twas here my faithful spouse for sins .atoned, 
Yet innocent! For this I her disowned! 
For this, her sufferings, why should I not 
Atone for sins upon this hallowed spot ?" 
Thus spoke the Count, while at the cave he knelt; 
And while he spake his soul within him felt, 
As an atonement for his sins, 'twere meet 
That he within a hermit's life should lead. 
To Trier, without delay, Count Siegried rode 
In quest of Bishop Hedelfus' abode. 
From him to get permission there to rear 
A chapel on the hallowed spot so dear. 

A stately church upon the sacred ground 
Was then erected by the sorrowing Count, 
In memory of the dear departed one. 
Who here, in solitude, with her dear son 
Had passed long years of suffering and woe — 
An innocent victim of the vile Golo. 

A cofl&n out of marble stone was wrought 
And to the crypt within the chapel brought, 
In which the body of his spouse was laid, 
Where she long years her hermitage had made; 
The cross was reared upon an altar high, 
Above her tomb, her sacred body nigh. 
This done, the Count soon preparations made 
To leave the castle and his vast estate 
To his dear son, as sole inheritor, 
And of his lands alone proprietor. 
As guardian of his son and his estate 
Count Siegfried then his only brother made. 



He said to him, in presence of his son: 



i66 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

"My noble lord, as guardian of this one 

Have I appointed you. You must have seen 

That I with sorrowing mind oppressed have been, 

Since my dear Genovefa passed away. 

Upon this spot no longer can I stay; 

I have resolved that from henceforth I will 

Seek consolation, and my vow fulfill. 

Upon the spot where lived my noble wife 

In misery seven years, a dreary life. 

There will I live as long as life shall last, 

As an atonement for my cruel past; 

There die and there be laid to rest, 

Beside my Genovefa — mine the blest ! 

Into your care now Schmerzenreich I place, 

To him the lineage of his parents trace; 

Do you to him as you would to your son; 

Be as a father to the helpless one, 

For surely he will be obedient, 

And show respect to you his nearest friend.' ' 

To Schmerzenreich he said : "Canst comprehend, 

My dearest child, that I this scene will leave 

For distant woods, in solitude to grieve ? 

To you I leave my title and estate, 

With its emolument, and honors great; 

Your uncle shall a father be to 3^ou; 

To him look for protection and be true. ' ' 

Then Schmerzenreich, replying, to him said: 

"Shall I accept from you this fine estate? 

This plot of earth, that I the same may own, 

While you will seek a future heavenly crown ? 

No, father dear, this I can never do; 

For I will seek repose in heaven with you; 

Where you shall choose to live will I abide, 

A worthy son — be ever by your side; 

Where you elect to die there will I die. 



AND OTHER POEMS 167 



This plain request to me do not den5^ ' ' 
With wonder all were struck at what he spoke. 
With moistened eyes the Count the silence broke, 
And said: "Dear son, your body cannot bear 
The rigid life that I must lead when there; 
Your tender years, although so good and brave, 
Will hasten you to an untimely grave." 
"Whj^ better than yourself," the child replied; 
"For seven years that rigorous life I've tried. 
Yet suffered naught for lack of nourishment. ' ' 

Thus he relinquished title and domain 

In favor of his uncle, to remain 

With Count Siegfried. In pilgrim's garb arrayed, 

The father and the son the journey made 

On foot to distant woodland's gloomy shade, 

Where they their chosen home in future made. 

Wild beasts and birds whom Schmerzenreich had tamed 

Now came in numbers, and his friendship claimed; 

Dumb creatures though the)^ were, their actions showed 

To him that they their wild caresses owed. 

In solitude a hermit's life they led 

Upon the spot, deep in the gloomy shade, 

Where Genovefa once her home had made. 

Far from the habitations of rude man. 

With naught to interrupt their holy plan, 

Thej' passed their days and years in this dark place. 

Lit by the light of God's redeeming grace. 

Thus died they both, in pure and holy love, 

To join the mother and the wife above. 



i68 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Gone, But Not Forgotten 



WE noticed but a sigh 
While we were standing by 
To watch the slowly failing, fleeting breath, 
On the evening of the day 
When her spirit passed away, 
And the drooping eyelids slowly closed in death. 

'Twas a cold and wintry day 

When they carried her away 
To the sloping hillside yonder, in full view, 

Where we mingled tear with tear 

While we stood around her bier. 
As we bade her each a long and last adieu. 

We may wander where we will, 

All is desolate and still; 
Deserted, dark and dismal seems each room, 

For they took the light away 

When they carried her that day 
To lower her into the silent tomb. 

In the room beside the Hall, 

Leaning up against the wall, 
Stands the easel with the picture incomplete; 

She was painting, ere she died, 

Where the sea with swelling tide 
Laves the lowlands where the sea and landscape meet. 



AND OTHER POEMS 169 



There beside her lowly bed 

I can see her drooping head, 
Where she daily knelt to say her evening prayer; 

And when I pass the spot 

Where she knelt beside her cot, 
I often think I see her kneeling there. 

But I call to her in vain 

To come back to me again, 
For the grave will not deliver up its dead 

To commune with us again 

In this world of woe and pain, 
When once the spark of life has truly fled. 

But we know the time will come 

When the Lord will take us home. 
To meet our daughter in the Heaven above; 

We know she's waiting there 

At the top of yonder stair, 
To greet us with a sweet, undying love, 

Boyertown, Pa., Jan. 3, 1897. 



%^oo 



lyo ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



God Speed the Noble Ship 



THE cry for bread comes loud and long 
From Asia's spacious plain, 
Where, wailing, dwells a countless throng 
In agony and pain. 

While kingdoms revel in their wealth, 
And roll in pomp and show, 

The wolf of hunger comes by stealth 
And leaves a train of woe. 

Oppressed by despot's iron hand, 
By force of hunger pressed. 

These people fain would leave their land 
And turn their footsteps west. 

The cry is heard by freedom's sons 

Across the briny deep, 
But many of Russia's famished ones 

Now sleep their last long sleep. 

Scarce was the message flashed across 

Atlantic's trackless wave, 
When through this land the cry arose: 

"Help starving hosts to save !" 

While Europe stands aloof, in shame, 

Where regal splendor lives, 
America ! foremost in name. 

Of her abundance gives. 



AND OTHER POEMS 171 



The cry was heard— soon loaded trains, 
With substance from the West, 

Sped eastward, under heavy strains, 
To join in with the rest. 

Free transportation to the East 

The railroad companies gave, 
Whose tracks were cleared and speed increased 

The starving hordes to save. 

From every quarter of this land — 
The South, the North, the West, 

Joined with the East — all hand-in-hand, 
To save the hunger pressed. 

A ship was offered free, to take 

The Nation's offerings o'er, 
That hungry mouths might soon partake 

Of our abundant store. 

God bless this noble land of ours — 

Land of the free and brave, 
Where plenty reigns, through unseen powers, 

The Russian hosts to save. 

Run up our flag on masthead high ! 

The stars and stripes shall wave, 
As on she speeds past Europe, nigh, 

To rescue and to save. 

God speed the noble steamship o'er 

The deep Atlantic's crest ! 
That Russian hosts may want no more 

And be forever blest. 

Boyertown, Feb. 22, 1892. 



172 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Hope for Rheumatics 



^nr^O treat this common malady — this scourge of humankind, 
-*~ A large array of remedies in stock we always find ; 
Each one is guaranteed a cure for all the aches and pain, 
And bring back into robust health the sufferers again. 

But when you come to try them and will note well the effect, 
You will be disappointed, for you cannot well expect 
To cure all cases with a drug that sometimes answers well 
With cases of a certain type whose cause one can expel. 

But if )^ou were to treat all cases with a certain drug, 
You soon would find, to your disgust, that you were surely stuck. 
Some acid treatment will require, some others alkaline ; 
To know just what will fit each case one must have points down 
fine. 

Some time ago a person with a fine and sturdy case 

Of rheumatism, which defied the doctors' various ways 

Of treatment, which each one had tried and all had failed to cure, 

By accident a method found both prompt as well as sure. 

This man once to a bee-hive w^ent when no one else seemed nigh, 
To steal, from well-filled combs stored there, some honey on the 

sly, 
To which the bees objected in their own substantial way 
In such a vigorous manner that they drove the thief away. 

His neck and face were swollen up to twice the normal size ; 
His lips were bulging from his face, while closed were both his 
eyes. 



AND OTHER POEMS 173 



The bees had got in their fine points in their effective way, 
Which cured him of the rheumatiz and drove it clean away. 

Then others tried the bee-sting plan, and some were cured thereby 

Of rheumatism in a trice, by stealing on the sly. 

Now while some cases maj'^ be cured in such a subtle way, 

It will not cure all cases nor relieve them in a day. 

A dozen stings must be applied, they sa3^ no more nor less, 
To make the cure effective and relieve the great distress. 
Some other methods will be tried to find a speedy cure 
For rheumatism at its worst, to be both safe and sure. 

Quite recentl}' a sufferer from rheumatism tried 
To curry down a vicious horse as well the brush he plied. 
The horse this work resented, and 'tis said, in self-defence, 
He gave the man a vicious kick which sent him o'er the fence. 

He landed in a mud-pond which thus proved a downy bed, 
As he went soaring o'er the fence and landed on his head ; 
He pulled himself together and then crawled on higher ground 
To contemplate the scenery and view the things around. 

The world seemed full of horses, there were mud ponds by the 

score ; 
The rheumatism was knocked out to worry him no more. 
A rest upon that worm fence to compare his shattered mind 
Soon showed the cure was perfect, save a tender spot behind. 

Now no one would be ready to contend that in that kick 
There was sufficient virtue to effect a cure so quick. 
Which virtue was alone possessed by that particular steed, 
Which landed with sufficient force to lift him off his feet. 

The kick of any other horse, if landed on the plot 
Where rheumatism flourished, would dispel it on the spot. 



174 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

If dealt out with sufficient force and with a deadening thud 
To send him vaulting o'er the fence and land him in the mud. 

Now it would seem quite certain that we have not reached the 

point 
Where kicks of horses can be stored to limber up a joint ; 
Where we can bottle up a kick and hustle it around 
To be distributed at large w^here sufferers abound. 

It might be practicable, though, to find the force of kick, 
To get the best results therefrom to cure one sure and quick, 
To train in each community a horse robust and strong. 
To deal out sturdy kicks at times to hasten them along. 

Perhaps a mule might answer well to deal out mighty quick 
Of proper force upon the spot a firm and vicious kick ; 
For, barring size and weight, a mule can boast sufficient force 
In cases of emergency to out-kick any horse. 

Perhaps a solar-plexus kick would settle all the pain 
Of chronic hypochondriacs should they survive the strain, 
And ever after render them immune from all disease 
By kick of vicious horses or by sting of angry bees. 

It does seem clear to any mind that there is now some hope 
For all rheumatics to get well, for larger is the scope 
Of remedies to be applied to cure them of their ills 
Besides the nauseating drugs, the powder and the pills. 

July 28, 1904. 



AND OTHER POEMS 175 



Haymaking in Olden Time 



Go with me back in memory, to the days of long ago, 
Those pleasant days of childhood, before I learned to mow, 
When in the early morning the robin with his lay 
Announced with songs of gladness the near approach of day. 

When the morning star was fading in the hazy eastern sky, 

And from its quiet slumber awoke the festive fly 

To torment and to worry us as on our beds we lay, 

While the cooling air was laden with the fragrance of the hay. 

Hark ! w^hat rhythmic sounds are those that float upon the air ? 
In the morning hour of twilight those sounds I used to hear. 
'Twas not the ticking of the clock — too sharp and loud the stroke. 
That came through open window as I from sleep awoke. 

I hear the sound of voices and a tapping, tapping, tap, 
As one by one, with measured stroke, again I heard that rap. 
To draw an edge on German scythe each one his hammer plied, 
While sitting in the early dawn some log or post astride. 

Then a slice of bread, well buttered, and a glass of milk or cream. 
And a draught from "Black Maria" just out of the cooling 

stream; 
This "Frieh-Schtick" gave a zest for work in the early morning 

hour, 
And braced the men for work on hand to keep up needed power. 

Then out across the meadow, with easy, measured stroke, 
The rushing sound of the keen-edged blades the morning silence 
broke; 



176 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

There Brother Henry leads the van across the grassy lea, 
While Daniel Endy, Nicholas Gresh and Jacob Reigner I see. 

There Daniel Heller follows close with Abraham Shearer near, 
While Gabriel Ganser's rapid strokes bring up the lonely rear, 
Whose grass is thrown close to the swath of the one who went 

before, 
From the rapid sideway cuts he made as down the lea he bore. 

Around across the meadow plot, and then the breakfast call 
Was heard to ring, and this in turn was relished by us all; 
For now the scintillating rays came through the swaying trees 
Of the rising sun in the month of June, fanned by the grateful 
breeze. 

Then out again with swinging stroke, across the grassy lea, 

Again in childhood's happy years these mowers all I see; 

But now they're wiping off their scythes with wisps of fragrant 

grass. 
While from the whet-horns hung in front the tapering whetstones 

pass. 

"Der wetz is gut, der wetz is gut, der hinnerst hut die Schlang 

im hute, 
Die Schlang im hute, die Schlang im hute, der hinnerst hot die 

Schlang im hute." 
From side to side the gritty stones are passed along the blade, 
Kach eager with the task in hand while standing in the shade. 

While toiling, sweating, mowing, whetting, the hour of nine 

draws nigh, 
Then to the spring house close at hand themselves the mowers 

hie; 
There the milk and ' 'bonny clabber' ' in many a pot I see 
In a stream of sparkling water that flows so pure and free. 



AND OTHER POEMS 177 



Then a slice of bread and butter and a piece of cake or pie, 
To feed and brace the inner man, each mower then will try. 
Oh for a draught of ice-cold milk while working at the hay, 
Or a pot of "bonny clabber" on a sultry summer day. 

Out of the broiling summer sun, inside that spring house door, 
How cool was then to barefoot boy that well-paved spring house 

floor! 
With rows of milkpots in the trough, and cakes upon the shelf, 
And a handy knife beside the same so oue could help himself. 

Again in boyhood's fancy those sturdy men I see 
Around the cloth upon the green, beneath some shady tree. 
Partaking of the "Nine uhr Schtick" while resting in the shade. 
Then a tug at "Betz" (the bottle) or a cup of lemonade. 

To spread the grass for seven men and carry water, too, 

As on they mowed with swinging strokes, was all a boy could do. 

While toiling in the midday sun the scene I still recall, 

When from the long tin blowhorn came the wished for dinner call. 

Upon the spacious portico I see my mother stand, 

While pealing come the pleasing sounds from blowhorn in her 

hand; 
Then in the spacious kitchen, with its solid oaken floor, 
In rows around the festive board I see these men once more. 

Then the "Ruh stund" 'neath the walnut tree with branches 

thick and long, 
And the dangling swing of grapevine that from a limb was hung. 
Where many a turn was taken to give each one a ride. 
While standing or while sitting on the seat, we often tried. 

Then out with teams and wagons, to gather in the hay 
That in the fertile meadows in heavy windrows lay; 
The women of the household the rakes had deftly plied 
To rake and turn the wilted grass which in the sun was dried. 



178 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The "Fiehr uhr Schtick," and "Black Strap," I must not here 

forget; 
That cooling, pleasant, grateful drink, I well remember yet. 
When coming from the heated mow how well it tasted then ! 
A grateful drink it proved to be to boys, as well as men. 

And when a full day's work was done, us boys again I see 
In the twilight of the evening, up in the cherry tree. 
Where oxheart cherries in their prime profusely hung o'erhead. 
Where one could satisfy himself before he went to bed. 

July 20, 1894. 



Heinrich Muller and the Masher 



IN the city of St. lyouis lives a merchant of renown 
By the name of Heinrich Muller, so they say, 
Whose comely daughter Mina is the beauty of the town, 
A sprightly lass, vivacious, sweet and gay. 

She's not the lass we read about in Whittier's well known ode, 
Who raked the meadow strewn with fragrant hay, 

Who had an eye upon the Judge who past the meadow rode 
On his spanking outfit on that summer day. 

Now Minnie is obedient, though just a little wild 

When from parental oversight removed, 
Always happy and contented, in demeanor meek and mild — 

Her conduct is by people all approved. 



AND OTHER POEMS 179 



A drummer once espied her as she passed along the street— 
Some call such creatures mashers, by the way; 

He learned her name and residence, and wishing her to meet, 
He sent a private note to her next day. 

An urchin brought the message, who an answer was to bring 
From the hand of Mina Muller, as he thought; 

To tell unto the lass he had some very urgent thing, 
Said the message that the lad to her had brought. 

At ten o'clock that evening, sharp, so said the secret note, 

Meet me alone at Tenth and Biddle streets. 
That no mistake be made, he then the following postscript wrote. 

And with endearing words his darling greets: 

"Remember that the pants I wear are light and tailor made; 

A light cane in my right hand I will twirl; 
My coat will be a cut-away, and dark will be its shade; 

From a cigar in my left the smoke will curl." 

The note he signed "Forever yours, Adolphus," and then bade 

The lad to hasten with the message penned; 
"Bring me an answer back," said he, "I'll wait in yonder shade, 

That I may know how fares my fairest friend." 

The ringing of the door-bell soon brought Mina to the door, 

To her the urchin handed then the note; 
She read it, and then bade the lad to take it to the store 

To pa, who then the following answer wrote: 

"I let you know, Adolphus, dot mine daughter vill be there 
At de korner of Tenth and Biddle schtreets, at ten; 

As her proxy I will meet you den, so don't you for me scare, 
In der conferdenshal caucus mit you den. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



"Dot my son-of-a-giin Adolphus vill make no mistake mit me 
I vill be dressed in shirt sleeves, mit both the sleeves rolled up; 

A six shooter revolver in my left hand you vill see, 
And in my right a good- sized hickory glub. 

"You vill recognize me by de vay I bats you on de head 

A gooble dimes twist mit der glub, you see, 
And shoot you mit dat pistol mit 45 -calibre lead, 

And den I tinks as how you vill know me. 

Wait for me on der korner, as I haf some dings to say. 

Of some imbordance it vill be to you; 
Dis ding I vish ter tell you in a konferdenshal vay, 

So your goot frent Heinrich Muller you vill know." 

At ten o'clock that evening Heinrich Muller, stout and strong. 
With his club and shooting iron both in hand. 

Proceeded to the corner where he stood and waited long, 
To meet Adolphus dressed up fine and grand. 

For some unlooked for reason dear Adolphus wasn't there 
At the time and place appointed that same day, 

Much to the grief of Muller, who stood with both arms bare 
To mash the masher in his clever way. 

July 28, 1894. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Hermit's Golden Jubilee 



AN old ramshackle building stands near Fairmount Avenue, 
-^"^ On St. John's street, wherein resides a lover tried and true; 
Carl Edelman, the hermit, here for fifty lonel}' years 
Has passed his time in making toys, while shedding silent tears. 

One Sunday at high noon he held a golden jubilee, 
Commemorative of the day, when an apprentice he 
Became a skillful journej^man — an occupation low — 
In making toys for girls and boys just fifty years ago. 

As workshop, kitchen, dining room and bed-chamber as well, 
The little room is utilized where Edelman does dwell; 
Here in this lowly tenement, to hold the jubilee. 
The old man spread the frugal board for him and others three. 

No other living person there to taste the scanty fare, 

Except the aged toymaker, with white and silvery hair, 

As seen by an inquisitive young gamin, light and free, 

Who through the cobwebbed window peered to watch the jubilee. 

Though hoary age, through ceaseless toil had dimmed the hermit's 

sight, 
Yet saw he through his dreamy eyes things in a different light; 
For there around the festive board to him, through vision clear. 
Appeared his friends of former years, long dead though still most 

dear. 

There sat the hermit at the head, while chairs around were placed 
At either side and at the end, with priceless treasures graced; 



1 82 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Three urns of polished brass contained the ashes of a friend, 
Which round the festive board he placed the banquet to attend. 

The one contained the ashes of his master, long since dead; 
The ashes of the latter's wife were in another laid; 
While in the third, most dear of all, were placed, with tender care, 
The ashes of their only child, their daughter young and fair. 

Full fifty years had sped their course since they had passed away, 
Yet to the hermit's fancy they were present on that day, 
And joined him in his lonely feast, and with him converse held; 
Who, with their queries and replies, his gloomy thoughts dis- 
pelled. 

In tones respectful to the urns wherein with care were placed 

The ashes of the aged ones, he oft himself addressed; 

But to the other silent urn, in lover's accents dear. 

He often would address himself, while flowed the silent tear. 

A half a century had passed — she was his sweetheart then — 
The reason of his time-worn grief to us must seem quite plain; 
A lover then, a lover now, no other love had known ; 
A lover to the end of life his constancy has shown. 

The banquet being over, then the old man took, with care. 
Each separate urn and placed it in a closet standing there; 
Then passed the balance of the day, as hours flew quickly by. 
In day-dreams of the good old time when to his sweetheart nigh. 

To the dingy little workshop a reporter found his way — 
Unwelcome an intruder — on the next succeeding day; 
A firm and a defiant look the hermit's thoughts revealed, 
While, too, his taciturnity his chagrin ill concealed. 

There in his little work.shop many curious things were found; 
There Noah's arks, and jumping jacks, and dolls were strewn 
around, 



AND OTHER POEMS 183 



While rocking-horses, too, were there, with many ancient toys, 
The product of his labors to delight the girls and boys. 

There, silent at his bench he stood, with cap upon his head. 
Of paper, fashioned by his hand, while ne'er a word he said; 
His thin white locks, unkempt, uncut, in wavy curls hung 'round. 
While scant and threadbare from long use his raiment all was 
found. 

The suavity with which the scribe the toy-maker addressed 
Soon caused him to relax his scowl when he his queries pressed; 
A brief and pointed history he gave unto the same — 
How Casper Berg befriended him when to this land he came. 

W^hile yet a boy in Germany, he left his native shore 
To sail upon a massive ship the briny waters o'er. 
America ! that favored land, awakened in his soul 
A strong desire to see that land — his future home and goal. 

Alone and friendless, soon he came to Philadelphia, 
Where, without funds of any kind, he begged his weary way; 
He found a friend in Casper Berg, who took him to his home. 
And taught him in his chosen art within that little room. 

Here Casper prospered at his trade— he was the pioneer 
Toy-maker in that city, and continued many a year; 
He had invented Noah's ark— now still a popular toy 
Among the children of this land — the pride of many a boy. 

Berg had a daughter, Katherine — she was their only child — 
A beautiful young German lass, with manners meek and mild; 
Between the young apprentice and the daughter, now so fair. 
Sprung up a course of true love while he wrought and tarried 
there. 



1 84 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Young Edelman had proved himself a true and faithful friend; 
So when he asked them for her hand the old folks gave consent; 
The wedding day was fixed upon, when, an appentice he, 
Had served his time to learn his trade— when he should once be 
free. 

He had another month to serve wherein to learn his trade, 
And as the days passed quickly by he preparations made 
To celebrate the wished- for day, with Katherine by his side, 
When to the altar he would lead his beautiful young bride. 

One morning, early, Edelman, some business to attend, 
Left home without apprising her, his nearest, dearest friend; 
While he was gone some reckless youth was in the river drowned, 
And by some men was brought ashore who had his body found. 

They thought it was Carl Edelman whose body they had found. 
And soon the news that Carl was dead like lightning spread 

around ; 
Some hastened to the Berg household the dread, sad news to tell. 
When Katherine upon the floor, unconscious, swooning fell. 

The dreadful news had broke her heart; the vital spark had fled. 
And when at eve young Carl returned his fiancee was dead. 
Remorse for his unthinking act now filled the lover's heart; 
To leave her thus with cause unknown was rashness on his part. 

The tragic death of their own child was far too great to bear; 
Worn out with grief, they passed awa5^ but Carl still tarries 

there; 
His master's house was left to him, with all the stock in trade, 
Where Edelman, the hermit, dwells beneath the ivy's shade. 

A recluse to the outer world, full fifty years or more 

Have passed since he has lingered there to live the season o'er; 



AND OTHER TOEMS 185 



There in his little workshop, with the ashes of his friends, 
In toiling for his daily bread he to his trade attends. 

He fashions still the old line toys, and toils from year to year, 
And guards with care the sacred urns that hold the ashes dear; 
Nor will he have to tarry long, for now his hoary head 
Is evidence that he will soon be numbered with the dead. 

July 28 1S95. 

[The above poem was written by Onkel Jeff from a very touching article 
which appeared in the Philadelphia Record of May 12th. We print the 
article below to show how closely our bard followed the prose. — Ed. Journal.'] 

Carl EdeIvMAN's Romance. 

A golden jubilee, unique in local history, was the one celebrated on 
Sunday last, in a little ramshackle building on St. John street, near Fair- 
mount Avenue. The sole occupant of the little house, an octogenarian 
recluse named Carl Edelman, on that day commemorated the completion of 
his fifty years as a journeyman maker of toys. In the little room on the 
first floor, which served as a workshop, bed-chamber, kitchen and dining 
room, the old man spread the table for the jubilee feast. There were places 
arranged for four persons at the little table, and yet, to the eyes of an in- 
quisitive urchin peering through the cobwebbed window, the white-haired 
old toy maker was the only living person at the peculiar banquet. The dim, 
dreamy eyes of the old man, however, saw things in a different light, and 
to him there was a full complement of guests present. The old man sat at 
the head of the table, and in the three remaining chairs reposed three large 
brass urns. They contained the ashes of his old master, the good wife of 
the latter, and ther only daughter, all of whom had passed away nearly half 
a century before. In the old man's fancy these three long-departed friends 
were really present at the feast, and he addressed frequent remarks to each, 
and answered their imaginary replies. To the two urns containing the 
ashes of the old couple he addressed himself respectfully; but toward the 
other he used the endearing terms of a lover; for the girl had been the old 
toy-maker's sweetheart half a century before. The frugal banquet over, the 
old man tenderly took up the urns and carefully replaced them in a closet 
in the corner of a workshop. The remainder of the da}' the old man passed 
in day-dreams of the good old daj-s that had been. 

To a reporter who managed to gain admission to the little workshop the 
next day the musty old room coutained much that was interesting. Rock- 
ing horses, Noah's arks, wooden dolls, jumping-jacks, and such toys as de- 



i86 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Hexerei 



THE fickle-minded people who in witches still believe, 
And call the hoo-doo doctor in, their ailments to relieve, 
Are themselves the real witches — 'tis the superstitious mind 
Of nervous, feeble persons, where the witches we will find. 

We know imagination is a fruitful source of ills; 
Such are the chronic cases to be dosed with drugs and pills; 
One day it's this, another that, some obscure ache or pain, 
Now here, now there, now everywhere, our sympathy to gain. 

We listen to their stories with the patience of a Job, 

And if we cure them of their ills "Noh grigt mer ah sei Lob;" 

But if we fail to cure them of imaginary ills, 

Nor yet relieve them of their pain with powders and with pills, 

They call the "hexe" doctor in, and then to him explain 
Their case from A to izzard, his full sympathy to gain. 
He hears their case unraveled, with a mind and soul perplexed, 
And in his diagnosis says, "Du bist gewis verhexed." 



lighted the children of long ago, lay about the floor in various stages of 
manufacture. The old man, with a square paper cap surmounting his thin, 
white locks, was working at his bench. He seemed at first inclined to resent 
the intrusion; but after a time so far forgot his habitual taciturnity as to give 
a brief history of his life. He had come from Germany when a boy, and 
had been befriended by Casper Berg, a toy-maker, who occupied the house 
in which the old man now lives and plies his trade. Casper Berg was the 
pioneer toy manufacturer of the city, and was well known in his day as the 
inventor of the Noah's ark, which is still a popular toy. Berg had one 
daughter, Katherine, who was beloved by her father's young apprentice, 
Carl Edelman. They were to have been married so soon as the young man 
should attain the dignity of a journeyman; but a month before that event 
the bride-to-be met with a tragic death. Young Edelman left home on 



AND OTHER POEMS 187 



That fits the case; some inert tea will do the case no harm; 
A little pow-wow now and then, upon the breast a charm. 
The case gets well without a hitch; that charm upon the breast 
Will drive away the witches, while the pow-wow does the rest. 

Imagination often times does wonders in its way, 
In calling up the witches and in driving them away; 
To prove what I am saying let me here a case relate, 
That happened to a lady who was in the married state. 

' Twas on a night in summer, I was lying on my bed, 
And fought off the mosquitos that were singing 'round my head; 
I heard some one come running up against my office door 
And rattled — such a racket I had never heard before. 

I hurried to the window for to ascertain the cause 
Of all this fuss and racket, and to find out who it was 
That seemed in such a hurry, and I saw a neighbor there 
Who seemed to be excited and was in a dreadful scare. 

"Come quickly to my house," said he, "my wife will suffocate ! 
She swallowed her false teeth in sleep — is in a dying state." 
I got into my pantaloons, put on my shoes and hat, 
I grabbed the gullet forceps, and ran off pell mell with that. 



business early one day without acquainting the family, and during his ab- 
sence a young man of the neighborhood was drowned in the Delaware. 
Several men who had recovered the body and believed it to be that of Edel- 
man went to the Berg home and broke the sad news to the household. The 
shock killed the affectionate girl, and when Edelman returned safe and 
sound at night he found his fiancee dead. Shortly after this melancholy 
mistake old Berg and his good wife passed away, and the young apprentice, 
who came into possession of his master's house and trade, locked himself 
up with his grief. He has since lived the life of a recluse in the little work- 
shop in which repose the ashes of his friends — the only loved ones he had 
on earth. He now ekes out a livelihood making old-fashioned toys for the 
few dealers who will take them. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



I reached the house to find his wife upon the settee there, 
All choked up with excitement — was in a dreadful scare. 
She tried to push her Pomum Adami down her throat, 
And in her pain and agony her neck and thorax smote. 

A tablespoon was handed me her throat inside to view, 
When something on the window ledge my quick attention drew; 
Behind her on the window stood an earthen flower pot. 
With a set of teeth behind it, in a dark, secluded spot. 

I deftly reached behind that pot and fished the false teeth out. 
And held them up before her eyes, when with exultant shout 
She jumped up in unfeigned delight and clapped her hands in 

glee. 
Because her artificial teeth were from her insides free. 

She joined in the hilarity that filled the house that night — 
Her pain and agony were gone, and so was all her fright. 
'Twas all imagination when she woke up from her sleep 
And felt that sense of choking quickly over her to creep. 

A cause must be assigned for this, the missing teeth were blamed, 
And that they stuck fast in her throat the frightened woman 

claimed, 
And had I not discovered them upon the window sill. 
Who knows what might have been the end? I ponder o'er it 

still. 

In the case of half-grown children, who are said to be bewitched, 
I have seen them cutting capers and I said they should be 

switched ; 
To play off on their parents and some beast to imitate — 
A cowhide in such cases would their reason reinstate. 

They do this just to frighten and the others to annoy — 
A switch of unburnt hickory their parents should employ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 



This would drive out the witches and would frighten them away, 
And make the boys and girls grow up much faster day by day. 

To pow-wow for all human ills, 'tis faith effects the cure. 

They feel at ease when pow- wowed, for the way to health seems 

sure. 
And yet it often fails to cure, with all the faith thrown in; 
Is it because the patient is too far advanced in sin ? 

And so with Christian Scientists; they come, exhort and pray, 
But when the patient's time is up they gently pass away; 
And then the law takes up the case, the culprits soon are tried, 
Because in practicing their art all drugs they them denied. 

The mesmerists and hj'^pnotists upon the weak ones prey, 

And when they have them hypnotized they'll do just what they 

say; 
Like foot pads on the highway, they demand of them their goods, 
And when they have them victimized they hie off to the woods. 

A little talk about the scheme, a few regrets, and then 
The thing is soon forgotten and all is serene again; 
The next guy that will come along will willing victims find 
To gobble up their money and to leave regrets behind. 

March 21, 1903. 



I90 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Hints Worth Heeding in Selecting a Husband 



A husband if you would select 
Be cautious, and do not expect 
To meet an angel from the skies 
To dwell with him in Paradise, 
For man by nature is unclean, 
Of sinful ways, with senses keen, 
Which by his Maker were unstrung 
When from his side a rib was wrung, 
And fashioned with a plastic hand 
Into a creature, noble, grand, 
Subordinate to be to man 
As taught in the creative plan. 

By nature man was fair, but crude, 
A plane above the common brute; 
But God, in His omnipotence, 
Created him with common sense. 
And left him at the "garden gate" 
With mind to comprehend his fate. 

But Adam was not satisfied. 

He roamed around through garden wide 

In hopes of some one there to find 

To comfort him and ease his mind; 

Then out came woman from his side, 

A beautiful and lovely bride; 

The best of Adam's former self 

Was taken to create this elf. 

Which left the coarser parts behind — 

He coarser still — she more refined. 



AND OTHER POEMS 191 



Robbed of his finer parts thus, man, 

To finish the creative plan, 

We find a sinful creature still, 

With selfish thoughts and stubborn will. 

Has Eve not caused this state of things 

Which trouble to us all now brings ? 

You cannot then expect to find 

A perfect man to suit your mind. 

So in your search to find a mate 

To join you in the married state. 

Be careful whom you do select. 

Far better all of them reject 

Than compromise your future state 

By joining with a worthless mate. 

Do not select a rich man's son, 

For you can all depend upon 

The fact, that if the old man dies 

And leaves his son immense supplies. 

He'll run them through with railroad speed, 

Nor will he others' counsel heed; 

All sound advice he will reject. 

And for his comrades will select 

Those whom you would refuse to meet 

Were you unhampered and discreet. 

Have we not seen in our own day 

Where young men threw^ their wealth away, 

Who came of age and took a wife 

With prospects of a happy life. 

But who were driven to the wall 

For having spent or squandered all ? 

There are young men with ample piles 
Who can resist the tempter's wiles; 
But those were taught the proper way 



192 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

To save some for a rainy day, 
And having once this trait acquired, 
Their conduct is to be admired; 
For they will be successful men — 
Will honor and renown obtain. 

If I were you, I would keep clear 

Of those who must have "schnapps" and "beer;" 

This morbid taste for ardent drink 

Has oft brought millions to the brink 

Of poverty and sore distress — 

Of misery and wretchedness. 

To satisfy this hellish taste 

They will their means and substance waste. 

A gentleman if you should meet, 
Observe has conduct; watch his feet; 
If slow his actions, slow his gait, 
He'll prove to be a lazy mate. 
Behind the stove in winter time 
Will be for him the proper clime; 
Nor will he once for work apply, 
While you the wood and coal supply. 
He likes to be well housed and fed. 
But will not earn his daily bread. 
He will be slow to speak his mind 
And slow in work of any kind; 
He'll smoke his pipe contentedly 
While you must do the drudgery, 
And squirt tobacco juice all o'er 
The furniture, and on the floor. 
He is the lazy, dirty dog, 
A sample of "the American hog." 

Do not select the gawkish dude 
With raiment loud and manners rude; 



AND OTHER POEMS 193 



With tender hands and empty head — 
Too genteel he to earn his bread. 
His brain is of a mellow type, 
Or like an apple over- ripe. 
To keep up style requires cash, 
But he's not like the common trash; 
To get the means to gain his end 
He'll rob his best and dearest friend; 
To keep up his appearances 
He'll sponge on his acquaintances. 

Would you select a bachelor ? 
What would you wed this fossil for ? 
For love, when he is growing old, 
With heart of flint and senses cold ? 
Or is it for his pile of gold ? 
Oh foolish girl, that you should wed 
A man to all the senses dead ! 
A crusty, crabbed, frigid elf, 
With love to none but for himself. 

I would not be a widower's slave; 
He's often but a heartless knave. 
What little love he had in life 
Was baried with his former wife, 
Which leaves him cold and desolate — 
A heartless husdand for a mate. 
Much better choose some nice young man 
And show him all the love you can; 
Be dutiful, obedient, kind. 
And then much happiness you'll find; 
Life's journey then to you will seem 
A pleasant and enchanting dream. 



February 9, 1893. 



194 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Hints Worth Heeding in Selecting a Wife 



IF you would a wife select, 
Be prudent, wise and circumspect; 
Look well ahead before you leap, 
For well you know it is for keep. 
To make your choice be not in haste, 
But choose the one that suits your taste; 
Do not depend upon divorce, 
For that will make the matter worse. 

The partner whom you choose for life 

Should be a true and loving wife, 

One who a helpmeet true can be 

In case of an emergency. 

Do not select the city girl, 

Well schooled in art and fashion's whirl, 

Deceptive in her wiles and ways; 

With painted cheeks and powdered face, 

Her form with strings and corsets laced, 

With pads her chest and shoulders braced; 

A waspish waist, a crippled foot — 

A shadow mere of womanhood. 

Remove her corsets and her stays, 

Her pads, and powders from her face; 

With false hair, false teeth laid aside. 

What have you but a ghastly bride ? 

Pale, sickly looking, thin and spare — 

Projections, angles everywhere. 

Fit subject she for human ills — 

A candidate for doctors' pills. 



AND OTHER POEMS 195 



But let me not be understood, 

While in this meditative mood, 

That I the merits would despise 

Of all the city belles likewise. 

For surely there are some still found 

Of shapely form, with body sound. 

Well educated, chaste and fair, 

With pearly teeth and wealth of hair, 

With ruby lips and lovely face. 

Endowed with health and womanly grace, 

Of perfect form in every part — 

Fit models for the sculptor's art; 

Yet lack they one important thing, 

Which to your notice I will bring. 

In case of an emergency 

They cannot cook, or steep a tea. 

To cook a meal or bake a pie 

The}' will not condescend to trj'^; 

They're novices in the cooking art, 

And will refuse to do their part. 

A lady plain, with temper sweet. 

Is just the one you wish to meet; 

With such a partner for a wife 

Your journey will be smooth through life; 

To you she will be ever dear, 

As age advances year by year. 

But should she have a temper high, 

This surely would your patience try; 

And if she oft have cause for rage 

She surely won't improve by age. 

To marry if you feel inclined, 
Some country damsel you can find 
Of perfect form and robust health, 



196 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Who is worth a dozen city belles. 
Her lips and cheeks a crimson red, 
A loving heart and level head, 
A willing hand to lend her aid — 
Well suited she to be your mate. 

A woman ought to have some grit, 
Combined with common sense and wit. 
An easy going one, you'll find. 
Is not well suited to your mind; 
She soon will be indifferent. 
Then will become quite indolent 
And careless, and, what is still worse, 
A constant drain upon your purse. 
There is a saying, true and tried, 
Which in this case can be applied: 
"A careless wife can cause more drain 
Than half a dozen men can gain." 

But then there's danger just ahead 
Should you a rapid talker wed. 
If she begins to scold, oh my! 
Won't she make the feathers fly ? 
Please do not marry one for wealth. 
But rather choose the one with health; 
Although 'tis handy, I admit. 
If she has money, quite a bit; 
But money is a fleeting thing 
Which often will discomfort bring; 
Between a husband and his wife 
It is the cause of manj^ a strife. 

But where both health and wealth are found. 
Where yet true love does not abound, 
Then choose the one you love, though poor, 
And cherish her forevermore. 



AND OTHER POEMS 197 



True happiness alone is found 

Where love and constancy abound; 

Where loving hearts responsive beat 

There happiness is found indeed. 

While life shall last, though youth decay, 

And blooming beauty fades away, 

'Tis pleasure then to gaze upon 

Two hearts that beat in unison, 

As down life's highway, day by day. 

They journey on their pleasant way; 

With hand in hand and heart in heart, 

Both strive to do their proper part. 



January 28, 1893. 



House Cleaning 



^ 1 ^O get all things ready for house-cleaning time — 
-^ The dusters, the brushes, the soap and the lime, 

The house-wife betimes will be anxiously hustling. 
The day being fixed for the task to commence, 
She gets up betimes and with feelings intense 

She starts in her work with a will and great bustling. 

The closets are ransacked, the garments well aired; 

The furniture dusted, removed, the room cleared 
Of carpets and lining, and rugs, for good reason. 

Now then for the sweeping with broom's rapid swish — 

To watch the quick motion is all one could wish 
To give him the horrors of house-cleaning season. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



When windows are raised she will make the dust fly 
From the room with the broom she so deftly will ply, 

To rid it of rubbish, of fuzz and of feather. 
The moth and the silver-fish, spiders and bugs 
Are swept from the corners and shaken from rugs 

In house cleaning season, in all kinds of weather. 

No square inch of surface on ceiling or floor, 
On wall or on surbase, on wash-board and door 

Escapes a good dusting or mopping or scrubbing. 

The cracks are all cleared with the duster and broom- 
She carefully dusts oflf the paint in each room, 

While windows with chamois receive a good rubbing. 

Should some unsuspecting one come in her way, 

The broomstick will answer to drive him away, 
To leave her alone with her task unmolested. 

She seems in dead earnest in all of her work; 

With garments tucked up she will work like a Turk, 
Nor does she desire her patience be tested. 

The pets of the household dread house-cleaning time. 
And sit around moping, or clear out in time 

To save a good beating from her with the broomstick; 
She labors and hustles, she works and she sweats. 
No time she has now to devote to her pets. 

Who from their estrangement feel lonely and home-sick. 

The man of the house now comes in for his share, 
Dressed up for the fray, with his brawny arms bare — 

The carpets and rugs will receive a good beating. 
Each atom of dust must from them be removed. 
Then shown to the matron, by her be approved — 

The same act each Fall and each Spring-time repeating. 



AND OTHER POEMS 199 



To fit up the stubborn stove pipes in the Fall; 

In Spring to remove them, stove, fixtures and all; 
To put down the carpets, the rugs and the lining; 

And when all is over, house painted and cleaned, 

The fly doors put on and the windows all screened, 
He rests from his labors on soft couch reclining. 

Not so with the matron; she puts up the shades, 

The curtains, the pictures, assisted by maids; 
Nor stops in her work until all is completed. 

Then rests from her labors when evening draws nigh; 

When house is in order she heaves a deep sigh, 
And waits until Fall, when the same is repeated. 

I've often been wishing, in house-cleaning time 
In Spring or in Fall, to some far distant clime 

I swiftly might journey like some aimless rover. 
There comfort to seek, far removed from the toil. 
Then come back again to my own native soil, 

Once more to find comfort when cleaning was over. 

May 31, 1900. 




ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



How I Practiced to vShoot on the Wing 



I once tried to learn how to shoot on the wing; 
How to shoot cotton tails on the run; 
I thought it were splendid if home I could bring 
Such game that I'd shot with my gun. 

I knew I could hit them if they would sit spry 
And give one good time to take aim; 

Then gunning is easy if you will half try — 
No trick then to capture your game. 

One day when at leisure I loaded my gun 

(An old muzzle loader I had), 
And said to my hostler, "Let's both have some fun," 

For gunning then seemed a new fad. 

"I am anxious to learn how to shoot on the wing 

When gunning my luck I will try; 
Go down to the stable and then to me bring 

A board one foot square — now be spry." 

I ordered that boy to a vacant lot near, 

The board to fling high in the air, 
Then lie down at once on his belly, for fear 

I might hit him while standing out there. 

He did as I told him. High up in the air 

That board like a rocket then flew, 
When off went that gun with a rip and a tear; 

But I did not quite hit it I knew. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



This act was repeated as often as I 

That old muzzle loader could load; 
But never once hit it, though often I'd try — 

The board's steady motion this showed. 

I gave him my felt hat, and while I stood there 

I told him to fling up that hat; 
Less quick would its movements be up in the air; 

I thought I could surely hit that. 

Then up in the air went the hat, like a top; 

I aimed, pulled the trigger and fired; 
In antics quite strange it came down with a flop, 

As though by some demon inspired. 

I knew I had hit it right there on the spot, 

Else could not account for all that; 
When picked up we found out that every blamed shot 

Had passed through the crown of that hat. 

That settled the thing; I had now learned the trick 

Of shooting a bird on the fly; 
When next I'd go gunning I'd show mighty quick 

That I, too, could shoot if I'd try. 

So one day with neighbors we, late, started out 
For squirrels, and rabbits, and quail; 

We drove to the hills and then hunted about. 
But it seemed that in bagging we'd fail. 

I soon got disgusted— got tired in my feet. 

And called it a poor kind of fun. 
When all of a sudden in front of my beat 

A cotton tail started to run. 

For a moment this frightened me out of my wits; 
From my shoulder I then brought my gun. 



202 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Says I to that critter, "I'll soon give you fits;" 
Now this seems to me more like real fun. 

I hadn't much time to take very good aim, 

For that rabbit was getting away; 
I quick pulled the trigger to capture the game — 

Would surely get something that day. 

That I had not hit it could plainly be seen, 

For there it was speeding away 
Close up to the woodland so tempting and green, 

A badly scared rabbit that day. 

A cow that was browsing some distance ahead, 

Unconscious of danger so near, 
Received the whole charge of those pellets of lead — 

'Twas a case of a fire in the rear. 

With a bellow or two, and a switch of the tail, 

That brindle cow record time made 
To the woodland close by, where the scared cotton tail 

Found refuge in woodland's dark shade. 

Since then I've seen naught of that rabbit or cow; 

Perhaps they keep running on still 
Through woodlands and copse, up and down, o'er the brow 

Of the rugged and rough "Devil's Hill." 

Nor have I since then been out gunning for fear 

Some cow might be grazing ahead; 
In aiming to bring down a cotton tail near 

I might pepper her rear end with lead. 

Dec. 20, 1903. 



AND OTHER POEMS 203 



How to Run a Newspaper on Promises and 
Well Wishes 



WHEN it comes to laying pavements, 
Or to mow and weed my lot, 
I can buckle on my armor 

And can do it on the spot — 
Not as well, perhaps, as others 

Who are at it day by day, 
But can do it without shirking, 
In my own substantial way. 

When I put my fore foot on it 

I can do most anj^ work — 
Haul wood, and saw and split it, 

And such duties will not shirk; 
But how to run a paper 

On mere promises to pay 
By subscribers who are shirking 

I am sure I cannot say. 

You surely must have money 

Your ink and stuff to buy; 
To pay all your compositors 

Will make the money fly. 
The paper, too, costs money. 

And so do type and coal, 
And so do incidentals 

To fill the printers' role. 



204 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Some printers have great patience 

But they cannot live on air, 
Nor can thej^ live on sunshine — 

They need some stronger fare 
To keep the things a moving, 

To keep the mind in trim 
To grind out editorials 

And do it with a vim. 

Substantial grub is needed 

To keep up tissue waste 
If you would keep things moving 

With brisk though prudent haste. 
Now how to meet the issue 

With promises to pay 
And trust to luck to get it 

At some uncertain day, 

Would seem a knotty question 

To those not in the swim; 
For me to solve this problem 

The chances seem quite slim; 
You know I'm not a printer 

And do not know the cost 
Of running such a paper 

With ne'er a dollar lost. 

Well wishes are like ether, 

And very "rare" at that — 
A thousand in a bundle 

Won't buy your spouse a hat. 
They are like the air escaping 

From a thin, transparent bubble; 
They have neither form nor substance. 

And there is just the trouble. 



AND OTHER POEMS 205 



You cannot count upon them 

When you want to pay a bill; 
And so with all the promises — 

They're a nauseating pill. 
Some might become disgusted 

With well wishes by the score, 
And would refuse to forward 

The paper any more. 

This will not suit delinquents 

If they want the paper still; 
It may make them feel uneasy 

And they'll come and pay the bill. 
If not, I'd go in training 

And learn the fistic art 
Until I'd be proficient, 

And could use my fists right smart. 

Then I would hedge around them 

And my errand would explain 
In strong and forceful language, 

Though my feelings I'd restrain. 
Then if they would not "shell out," 

I'd' resort to language rough 
And give them a sound beating 

Until they'd cry enough ! 

I would sit down hard upon them 

And their nozzles I would smash, 
To get them in the proper mood 

To hand to 3^ou the cash; 
And then before I'd let them up 

I'd give them this one chance: 
To take the paper as before 

And pay it in advance. 



2o6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

And then I'd make them promise 

That they would not go to law 
To pay them for the thrashing 

If they an opening saw. 
In this there is some danger; 

Some others may have tact — 
For you might get the drubbing, 

Or else do the sprinting act. 

April 25, 1903, 



Is life Worth Living? 



Is life worth living? Tell me now 
Ye who, with minds oppressed, 
Live on in hopes with saddened brow, 

Who .seek but find no rest, 
Nor catch a glimpse of radiant light. 

That through some riven cloud 
Comes streaming earthward, clear and bright 
Where shadows flit about ? 

Misfortunes come to all at times. 

Or sorrow's cup may fill 
Through loss of loved ones, yet sometimes 

There seems a blessing still; 
For if some weak and stricken one 

Is called to heaven above, 
His race is run, to him Life's sun 

Has set in peace and love. 



AND OTHER POEMS 207 



A brighter sunshine greets him there 

Where peace forever reigns; 
No woes afflict, no longer care, 

No longer aches and pains. 
Has he no reason to rejoice 

When from all sufferings free, 
Where he can join with clearer voice 

The heavenly jubilee ? 

Does money loss affect your brain ? 

When such investments fail, 
Cheer up ! cheer up and try again; 

Why weep, and pine and wail ? 
The world keeps moving in its flight 

Around the central sun; 
The torrid day brings cooler night 

As days their cycle lun. 

The losses that we count to-da}'^ 

When trades no longer boom, 
To-morrow's gains may far outweigh, 

And thus dispel the gloom. 
All make mistakes — no one can tell 

What troubles may befall; 
Keep striving and do your part well. 

Though driven to the wall. 

Do not despair; don't sit and mope 

When things don't come your way; 
Keep moving on and strive and hope — 

Look for a brighter day; 
Man was not born by accident, 

Nor will our lives depend 
On fancied whiff or incident 

If we our time well spend. 



2o8 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Though frail and weak ourselves, we may 

Some useful purpose fill 
In this wide world some future day 

With credit, if we will; 
Each one is here some useful part 

To plaj^ on this world's stage; 
Then let each strive with all his heart 

To round out history's page. 

Is life worth living? Yes, some one 

Will need help on the way; 
A little aid will urge him on, 

And cheer him day by day; 
A few kind words, some good advice 

May change the life of one 
Who revels in the dens of vice, 

And such thereafter shun. 

Is there no answer in the smile 

Of some sweet little child, 
Made happy by you for awhile, 

With mind still undefiled ? 
Is there no answer in the prayer 

Of one you helped along ? 
Some one who might have perished there 

Amidst the hurrying throng ? 

The feeble hand-clasp of some friend 

For deeds of kindness shown 
Give promise of a peaceful end 

Ere 3^et life's spark has flown. 
Is life not worth the living where 

Life's lamp is burning low 
In grateful smile, when you with care 

Cool off the heated brow ? 



AND OTHER POEMS 209 



Or in the consciousness of some 

Kind duty well performed ? 
Of joy brought to a lonely home? 

Of some cool friendship warmed ? 
Or when returning from afar 

You near the old-time home, 
And find the welcome gates ajar 

Where fragrant roses bloom ? 

Perhaps you have not felt the thrill 

Of pleasure and of joy 
In having tamed the stubborn will 

Of some unruly boy 
By words of kindness and of love 

To calm the ruffled soul, 
Which most effective weapons prove 

To quiet and control. 

The poet Austin well has said, 

"Is life worth living?" Yes, so long 
As there is wrong to right; 
Wail of the weak against the strong, 

Or tyranu}^ to fight. 
Long as there lingers gloom to chase, 

Or streaming tears to dry, 
One kindred woe, one sorrowing face 

That smiles as we draw nigh; 
Long as a tale of anguish swells 

The heart, and lids grow wet. 
And at the sound of Christmas bells 

We pardon and forgot. 
So long as Faith with freedom reigns. 

And loyal Hope survives, 
And gracious Charity remains 

To leaven lowly lives; 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



While there is one untrodden tract 

For Intellect or Will, 
And men are free to think and act, 

Life is worth living still." 



Is Marriage a Failure? 



TF one will read the papers with a scrutinizing eye 

-■- He a list of applications for divorces will espy, 

All rushing to the courts to have the marriage knot untied, 

Where each one has a grievance and the case in hand is tried. 

One claims his wife has left him without cause that he can see. 
Who now brings suit against him and demands that she be free; 
She sues for alimony, and thus drags him into court, 
Because she has deserted him, yet now claims his support. 

The man may be a spendthrift, and thus cannot well provide 
The means wherewith to clothe and feed his newly wedded bride; 
This soon creates a squabble, and they belch out heated air. 
And have a windy talking with each other then and there. 

Perhaps she has a mother who is sure to have her say; 
In matters of the household she is sure to have full sway; 
This soon creates disturbance and will surely end in strife 
Between the irate husband and his young and highstrung wife. 

This will cause a separation, she will pack her goods and leave. 
And hie oflf to her parents where she takes her time to grieve 
For having been so foolish thus to throw away her time, 
And marry when in childhood's years, before she was in prime. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



As weeks pass by she may relent, and look with longing eye 
To see her liege lord coming 'round to have another try 
At married life, but as a rule he shuns his former spouse, 
And swears he'll never take her back to the deserted house. 

Then comes the dreaded lawsuit. When the case comes up in 

court 
The lawyers smile, the judges grin, while all enjoy the sport, 
When, with a list of grievances, the case is fully aired, 
And then comes the decision that the twain were wrongly paired. 

Thus are divorce mills grinding on the grist of human lives, 
To separate gay husbands from their young and truant wives; 
They go out in the wide, wide world to find another mate. 
Then make haste to get married and will trust to cruel fate. 

If you will sift the matter you will see that beardless men, 
And women still of school age, are the ones who will complain; 
If refused a marriage license in this State, they haste away 
To Jersey's sands to get a splice, nor will they brook delay. 

A short but ardent courtship seems to satisfy the mind 

Of boys and girls still in their teens, for both soon seem inclined 

To try their luck in union, and thus their issues pool, 

W^hile she, a poor deluded miss, and he a verdant fool. 

Perhaps it was compulsion that had caused them to get spliced. 
When from the path of virtue and of rectitude enticed; 
Perhaps 'twas filthy lucre that had soothed the aching heart. 
In joining them together, yet thereafter soon to part. 

That marriage is a failure with such cannot be denied, 
For they, in their delusion, the experiment have tried; 
From the holy bonds of wedlock they now long to be absolved. 
And thus to cut the gordian knot they both have now resolved. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Why brand a thing a faikire if some foolish ones have tried 
And failed, because there was no love and little else beside 
To keep them to their duty, to fulfill the marriage vow — 
A sacred and a heavenly law to which we all should bow. 

If some wed for experiment, and reason will defy, 
This should be no criterion wherewith to judge it by; 
The world at large gives answer with its happy firesides, 
Where love and harmony hold sway, and happiness abides. 

Where oft around the festive board kind friends in concert meet 
To mingle with each other and each other warmly greet; 
Where happiness impels the mind and true love sways the heart 
The sacred compact is secure, which death alone can part. 

Oct. 8, 1903. 



Jim's Soliloquy 



T^UIvL fifty years their silent course have sped 
-*- Since I left here with firm, elastic tread, 
To seek my fortune in far distant lauds 
Among the Indians, who in divers bands 
And different tongues held undisputed sway 
Where Kansas river threads its winding way 
Thro' fertile plains, with verdant slopes between, 
Where shines the noonday sun with silver sheen. 
As murmuring the rippling waters flow 
In grandeur to the Gulf of Mexico. 

How changed does everything to me appear 
Since I again behold this town so dear, 



AND OTHER POEMS 213 



With here and there still lingering a friend 
Whose hoary head and tottering steps portend 
That human life is ebbing fast away 
To join the rest at no far distant day. 

Friends of my youth ! how happy thus to meet 

You once again, and with my love to greet 

You whom kind Providence has spared to show 

Your greetings to a friend of long ago, 

Who comes to take a lingering look once more 

On scenes familiar in those days of yore; 

To grasp again the warm and proffered hands 

Of those who long had known me as Jim Sands. 

But time has left its impress everywhere; 

Some landmarks are remaining here and there 

To mark the outlines of old Boyertown 

Along the public highway up and down. 

Ah yes ! some few old houses still remain 

That I with pleasure now behold again. 

Where are their occupants ? Ah ! where are they ? 

Now nearly all of them have passed away 

Beyond Life's River, to the other shore. 

To live in joy and peace forevermore. 

The Guldins and the Schaeffer boys are gone; 

The Stauffer and the Rhoads boys, one by one. 

Have journeyed home their comrades there to greet — 

To join the saints that worship at His feet. 

The Sweinharts and the Fegleys passed away 

Since I was gone. At no far distant day 

Those still remaining now will all be gone — 

The Cabels and the Bechtels one by one will journey home. 

Where are the girls I knew so well while here ? 
Whose winning graces rendered them so dear 



214 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

To me, a youth, replete with ardent love; 

Good-looking then, and alwa5'S sure to prove 

A fond admirer of the fairer sex — 

The gift from God man's carnal soul to vex; 

A crooked rib removed from Adam's side. 

Then moulded into shape and beautified 

To be his help-mate and his loving bride. 

'Tvvas such I knew, of high and low degree; 

But then the West had greater charms for me 

Than lovely maidens, who with whims and wiles 

Could not entice me with their winsome smiles. 

I longed to breathe the pure and balmy air 

Of the wide prairies that were waiting there 

The advent of the pale-face on the scene. 

We came in force, and soon there could be seen 

Homes springing up like mushrooms here and there, 

Some adobe, and some others built with care. 

I started out in life to work my trade — 

That of a saddler, and fair progress made 

In trading with the Indians all around, 

Whose trade was profitable I soon found. 

Things moved along, I prospered well in life, 

Then looked around and found a loving wife — 

A yankee girl, with whom then, hand in hand, 

We reared a home in that far distant land. 

The wish now seized me to behold once more 
My whilom friends whom I had known before. 
Myself and wife, and grandchild, journeyed here 
To take a farewell look on friends so dear. 
Fred Staufier, Billy Bryan, and such men, 
It thrills my soul to meet once more again, 
To talk about old times when we were young; 
When we were comrades, hearty, robust, strong; 
But now so changed ! The gray and grizzly hair 



AND OTHER POEMS 215 



Shows time has left its tell tale impress there; 
The furrowed cheeks, the wasted forms, portend 
That our time, too, is drawing to an end. 

We journey westward home to our domain 
Perhaps no more to meet these friends again 
Upon this earth while life shall j^et remain; 
Then let us hope that when the time shall come 
That we must die, the I^ord will take us home 
To meet and greet the friends who've gone before, 
And there to praise His name forevermore. 

May 2, 1901. 



Joe and Sue's Courtship 



MID fields of fragrant clover blooms, 
Where zephyrs laden with perfumes, 
Stole softly o'er the mountain. 
There stood a cottage quite alone, 
Of modest size, and built of stone, 
Beside a flowing fountain. 

Here Father Prescott, it appears, 
Had passed his life full many years 

With Sue, his only daughter; 
She was the beauty of the land, 
And many youths had sought her hand, 

But no one yet had caught her. 

Of those she deigned to look upon 
Joe Simpson seemed the favored one; 
He there would often tarry; 



21 6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

It was the talk about the town 
That Joseph had been favors shown — 
That he and Sue would marry. 

One evening in his old arm chair 
Sat Prescott, while his daughter fair 

Sat in a vacant corner; 
Joe came in at the open door, 
And stood upon the oaken floor 

And sweetly gazed upon her. 

He whispered something in her ear, 
Then both came up and stood quite near, 

To where her father tarried; 
Then spoke up Joe, "With your permit 
This courting business we will quit — 

We'll go and both get married. 

Then pa rose from his old arm chair 
And said, in words stern and austere: 

"You cannot have my daughter; 
You cannot yet support yourself. 
You have my Sue ? You foolish elf. 

She'd starve on bread and water." 

Joe, disappointed, hung his head, 
Then looking up to Sue, he said: 

"We will not be desponding; 
A princely fortune I will find; 
I'll keep you ever in my mind; 

We'll court by corresponding." 

Some foolish folks would have eloped 
And married, and then would have hoped 
That they might be forgiven; 



AND OTHER POEMS 217 



But Sue was of a different mind; 
To pa she could not be unkind, 
Although her plans were riven. 

Joe left the place that very day 
For far-off California, 

To carve alone his fortune; 
But obstacles lay in his way, 
Which troubled him both night and day; 

And great was his misfortune. 

Then sickness overtook poor Joe; 
While weak and faint and yet quite low, 

A note to him was given — 
A letter from his faithful Sue, 
Who ever had to him been true — 

"My pa has you forgiven." 

New life to Joe this letter gave, 
And now he prayed the Lord to save 

His life that he might meet her. 
When well again, the rocks once more 
Joe delved, as he had done before. 

With gold that he might greet her. 

From constant labor day by day, 
Infirmities all passed away — 

Then Joe was strong and healthy. 
A streak of luck now followed Joe; 
Into his coffers gold would flow. 

And soon he was quite wealthy. 

One day he counted o'er his gold — 

A full ten thousand pounds, all told. 

Was what his big pile counted; 



21 8 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

"This money I will bring to Sue, 
Who has to me been firm and true — 
My! won't she be astounded ?" 

Old Prescott's time was drawing nigh 
When he would have to "do and die," 

And Sue leave his possessions; 
Before he died to her he said: 
"Now Joseph Simpson you may wed — 

These are my last expressions." 

Then died he on the self-same day 
That Joseph started on his way 

Well laden with his treasure. 
Swift was the pace and long the way, 
But Joe kept pegging day by day 

To meet his Sue with pleasure. 

One summer morning, clear and bright, 
Joe with his treasure hove in sight. 

His journey almost over. 
Sue saw him coming from afar; 
She quickly threw the gate ajar 

And ran to meet her lover. 

To the parson then, without delay. 
The happy couple took their way 

Through fields of blooming clover; 
Joe led his gay and gushing bride. 
While she stepped lightly by his side. 

For now her grief was over. 

The knot was tied, the loving pair 
To the hillside cottage did repair. 
Forever now united; 



AND OTHER POEMS 219 



A faithful husband Joe to Sue 
For having been to him so true, 
Her constancy requited. 

The sequel shows that Joe was right, 
For had he won a stolen bride 

He would have caused displeasure; 
Old Prescott with his dying breath 
Would have renounced them both in death, 

Yea, cursed them without measure. 



November 30, 1S92. 



Keep Your Eye on the Breakers, There's 
Danger Ahead! 



A large ship was sailing a calm and smooth sea 
-^~^ On its way to a far distant shore, 
But far in the offing one plainly could see 
That trouble for them was in store. 

A dark cloud was rising low down in the west, 
As though it emerged from the sea, 

And spread o'er the sky like a huge fan-like crest. 
Extending far down to the lea. 

Stray clouds could be seen drifting by in the breeze 
That filled with its volume each sail. 

And as the ship drifted its force would increase, 
Which soon proved a regular gale. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



On the deck stood the captain with eye-glass in hand, 
And watched the large waves rolling by; 

Far away on their course what appeared to be land 
At length caught his well -practiced eye. 

White caps could be seen on the crest of each wave 

That swept o'er the low hidden shore; 
The waves lashed to foam ample evidence gave 

That danger ahead was in store. 

A sailor was sent up with eye-glass in hand 

To the crow's nest, to scan o'er the sea. 
He saw in their path a long, low hidden strand 

Extending far off to the lee — 

A low coral reef, hidden, save at low tide. 

When the dangerous reef was laid bare, 
The sea lashed to foam, which the captain had spied, 

Was a signal that danger lurked there. 

Dark clouds drifted by while the noble ship sped 

Along o'er the waves rolling fast. 
"Keep your eye on the breakers, there's danger ahead!" 

Said the sailor far up on the mast. 

"Hard to port with the rudder," with voice strong and clear 
From the captain who clung to the mast. 

The pilot responded, for danger was near, 
And soon the dread danger was past. 

When I see boys and girls running out on the street 

At night when they should be at home, 
It seems that their parents are quite indiscreet 

To sanction their children to roam 



AND OTHER POEMS 221 



At uight on the street when they should be in bed, 

And I feel like the sailor to say : 
Keep your eye on your children, there's danger ahead ! 

Keep them in lest they might go astray. 

The lessons they learn in those night schools, away 
From parental restraint, when they roam 

With dangerous comrades who lead them astray, 
Bring sorrow and shame to your home. 

You send them to church, and you send them to school, 

To Sunday school, too, I dare say, 
But when night approaches, why then, as a rule 

You allow them to have their own way. 

The comrades they meet and the lessons they learn, 

Removed from parental restraints, 
May cause many sorrowing parents to yearn 

With heartaches and doleful complaints. 

'Tis there where the rogues and the rascals are made, 
'Tis there where the girls go astray; 

Keep your eye on your children, there's danger ahead ! 
There Satan is leading the way. 

Call in the young hopefuls lest they be misled; 

Don't let them drift on to their fate; 
Keep your eye on the breakers, there's danger ahead ! 

Lest you may regret when too late. 

November 24, 1901. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Kai the Arapahoe 5quaw 



TN the land called Oklahoma 
-^ Where profuse the sand-bur grows, 
In the lowland and the upland 
Where the winding river flows 
Called Canadian by the natives, 
Coursing through the sandy plain, 
Oft at times the banks o'erflowing 
When profuse the drenching rain, 
Dwells a tribe of native Red Men 
Called Arapahoe by name. 
Who from Southern Colorado 
And from Western Kansas came 
To the present Reservation, 
With their children and their squaws, 
To enjoy our country's bounties 
And obey our civil laws. 

When they came from Colorado 
Brought they with them a pappoose 
Noted for her well formed features 
And her tresses long, profuse; 
When a smile lit up her features 
As you caught the laughing eye, 
Or the merry, childish prattle 
When to speak she fain would try. 
Squaws and bucks with admiration 
Viewed her as she romped in play, 
And joined in the merry-making 
As the da3\s would pass away. 



AND OTHER POEMS 223 



To the pappoose when an infant 
Was the name of "Kat" applied 
By her mother in the tepee 
Where her wants were well supplied 
For a time, until her father — 
He a warrior strong and brave, 
Lost his life in surging river 
When he tried his horse to save. 
This so preyed upon the mother 
That she early pined and died, 
And thus Kat was left an orphan 
With no friends who could provide, 

Kat thus drifted hither, thither, 

With the brave Arapahoe; 

Where these built their cone-like tepees 

Kat with them was sure to go. 

Thus she came to Oklahoma, 

Then a romping little lass, 

To Cantonment Reserv^ation, 

There her future days to pass. 

With no mother to restrain her 

She became a wayward child, 

Then became a reckless maiden 

Midst the scenes so weird and wild. 

Oft she wandered o'er the prairie 

Where the grasses richly grow; 

Where the gophers delve and burrow 

Kat alone would come and go; 

With the sun to guide her footsteps 

She would journey on her way 

Till the mellow, golden sunset 

Warned her of the close of day, 

Then up in some scrubby tree-top 

She would pass the lonely night 



224 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Watching, dozing, sleeping, yawning — 
Waiting for the morning light, 
While the wolves upon the prairie 
Howled in threat' ning cadence there, 
Or the wildcat's piercing outcry 
Broke the stillness of the air; 
But with daylight fast approaching 
Ceased the howling of each beast 
As they slunk back mute and silent 
To their lair without a feast. 
Then it was that Kat, the wayward 
Indian maiden, would descend 
And retrace her footsteps homeward, 
And resolved her ways to mend; 
But her wild and restless nature 
Could not brook the lonely life 
Of an orphan Indian maiden. 
And she longed to be the wife 
Of some brave and dauntless creature 
Who could hunt the fox and deer; 
Who could share his wigwam with her 
And her lonely life could cheer. 

Thus the wayward Indian maiden 
Mused and wandered on her way 
O'er the fragrant, flowery prairie, 
Where she journeyed day by day; 
Thus it happened in her wand' rings 
O'er the prairie that she came 
In the presence of a negro — 
Wesley Warner was his name — 
Who was tilling some broad acres 
Near the river's sloping side 
Where the cotton tree and black jack 
Grew profusely side by side; 



AND OTHER POEMS 225 



Here, protected by the shade trees 
From the noonday's scorching heat, 
Met the negro and the maiden 
Where the plain and upland meet, 
There the negro wooed and won her — 
Won her as his Indian bride 
While they lingered in the shadows 
Where the stream was flowing wide. 

Here in this clandestine manner, 
While the days were passing by 
Met the maiden and her lover, 
With no person prying nigh. 
Ardently the negro wooed her — 
Loved her wisely in that dell, 
While the Indian maiden tarried 
Where the length 'ning shadows fell. 
While the slanting sunbeams glinting 
Through the tree tops plainly showed 
Golden rays upon the river 
Where the placid waters flowed; 
Then they journeyed to the village 
Where the brave Arapahoes 
Had their tepees and their windbreaks. 
Where Canadian's waters flow. 
Greatly were the bucks astonished; 
Sorely was their temper tried 
When they saw the maiden coming 
With the negro by her side, 
He a curly-headed negro, 
She, his squaw, with raven hair, 
Were to make their home among them 
And the country's bounty share. 
Many were the vicious glances 
By the bucks assembled there, 



226 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

While the squaws, with woeful faces 
Glanced at the unwelcome pair. 
But the winsome Indian woman, 
Now his squaw, would have her say; 
To her side she won them over 
And both were allowed to stay 
In their tepee in the village 
And to mingle with the rest, 
He an object of derision — 
Passive yet unwelcome guest. 

Time wore on; the strong objection 
Raised against him wore away, 
And the negro was permitted 
To join in their sports and play, 
Kat, his squaw, seemed well contented, 
And would seldom go away, 
But kept close within her tepee 
Where she passed her time each day 
Making bead work, purses, pouches, 
Moccasins to tempt the eye. 
Or in making divers garments 
She the needle well would ply. 

Thus the moons passed, and the seasons 
Came and vanished year by year 
Which in turn each brought their changes- 
Joy and sorrow, comfort, cheer; 
Joy to some for divers reasons 
Sorrow for departed ones 
Who were sleeping on the prairie 
Distant from them many suns. 
To the wigwam of the negro. 
As the time sped swiftly on. 
Came two curly-haired pappooses — 



AND OTHER POEMS 227 



Objects fair to look upon; 
One is now a bright-eyed student — 
Has received a Christian name, 
By the mission was adopted, 
Who now teach and rear the same. 
One yet still a few years 3-ounger 
Stays with Kat in her tepee, 
Where a romping lass I saw her, 
Filled with childish mirth and glee. 

Kat's first husband died and left her 
With two children to maintain, 
Thus it happened that the mission 
Took one of them to restrain; 
Thus well cared for by the ladies 
Who her welfare have at heart, 
She is taught the English branches 
And in this fills well her part. 
She is taught our modes of living — 
How to cook a luscious meal, 
How to sew. to make her garments, 
How to do all this with skill. 
In the march of civilization 
She will be a shining light 
To lead on the Indian nation 
To a haven clear and bright. 
This will solve the Indian problem — 
Teach them all to earn their bread. 
Take the children from the wigwams, 
Let their youthful minds be fed . 
With the laws of civilization; 
Teach them how to sow and reap, 
How to earn an honest living, 
How to save and how to keep. 
When her child was taken from her 



228 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Kat felt lonely and undone, 
And she longed for a companion 
And soon found a proper one. 
In her rambles o'er the prairie 
She a negro buck espied; 
She enticed him to her wigwam 
And became his willing bride. 
In due time another pappoose, 
Curly headed as before, 
Made its debut in that tepee. 

Thus was added just one more 

To the one that Kat had with her. 

Then she had another pair 

Of pappooses, brown of body. 

With a crop of curly hair. 

This incensed the Indian warriors 

When the news was spread around, 

And their chieftain called a council 

To assemble on the ground 

Where the negro was sojourning 

To decide what should be done 

With the dark-skinned, base intruder— 

Father of the little one. 

Angry faces, stormy protests 

Could be heard on every side; 

Then the braves by acclamation 

On the instant did decide 

That the negro should be banished 

From the tribe forevermore; 

That three mongrels was the limit 

They would suffer, and no more. 

Vain were now Kat's earnest pleadings 
• To stay justice for her sake; 



AND OTHER POEMS 229 



All her wailings, all her pleadings 
Could on them no inroads make. 
Then the chieftain, tall in statue, 
Daubed with paint, with eagle crest, 
Soon announced the council's edict 
To the negro and the rest. 
He was given one sun's notice 
To prepare to leave his squaw, 
Who was wailing in their tepee 
When she heard the dreadful law. 
On the morrow, just at sunrise, 
Was he led forth to depart 
From the Indian Reservation 
With a sad and broken heart. 
He was driven by the warriors 
To the borders of their land 
And was cautioned ne'er to come back- 
Such the edict, the command. 
He, beyond the Reservation, 
Cast a lingering look behind. 
Peering through his tear-filled visage 
Glimpses of his squaw to find. 

There beside the cone-like tepee 
Like a statue stood the squaw. 
Wailing, watching every movement, 
While her soul was filled with awe. 
Then she slowly raised the pappoose 
High above her drooping head, 
And then waved a lasting adieu 
While remorseless tears she shed. 
He espied her for an instant 
As he waved high o'er his head 
His felt hat, then quickly turning 
From the watchful warriors fled 



»3o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Westward o'er the boundless prairie 

Never to return again 

To the squaw and to the pappoose, 

For such errand would be vain; 

He was banished from her presence 

But his precious life was spared; 

Should he turn back they would slay him— 

This he knew and hence not dared. 

Whether dead or yet still living 

No one knew nor would they say, 

But he never came back to her 

Through the years that passed away. 

Kat remains with her two daughters 
With the tribe where she, forlorn. 
Lives, a changed and cast-down woman, 
Sad of features and forlorn, 
With no sisters, and no brothers. 
And no kindred living now, 
With her two remaining daughters 
She to cruel fate must bow. 



AND OTHER POEMS 231 



Life's Journey 



^ I ^HERE'S joy in the house when an infant is born, 

-*- Then grief for a time of all sadness is shorn, 
For dear ones departed our tears we suppress, 
While the newly arrived one we fondly caress. 

Speak softly, tread lightly, disturb not its sleep, 
While angels now o'er it their guardianship keep. 
Unconscious as yet of life's journey begun 
Sleeps calmly and sweetly the dear little one. 

Not haunted by dreams to disturb its repose, 
While sleeping and waking it thrives and it grows; 
Now yearning for things which itself cannot gain — 
Dependent on others its life to sustain. 

Then a groveling worm on a carpeted floor, 
It struggles and tries, and repeats o'er and o'er 
Its efforts to move to some object close by — 
Desisting awhile, then again will it try. 

One )'ear it has journeyed on life's pleasant way. 
With intellect growing, and strength, day by day; 
Then we see in its stead, running over the floor, 
A cute little master — an infant no more. 

He has conquered the house, though unable to speak, 
And all strive their utmost his comfort to seek; 
A fond mother hastens to fill in advance 
Each wish of his mind by gesture and glance. 



J32 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

None dare to impede him or stand in his way, 
For his will now is law, whate'er others may say; 
In matters of "home rule" he's bound to be heard, 
Which from his fierce howling may well be inferred. 

Now able to speak, he will join in each strife — 
He made rapid strides in his journey through life; 
A strong, robust boy, still determined to rule, 
He has donned childish garments and hastens to school. 

Now growing and learning, improving each day. 
He joins in the squabbles and fights on the way; 
An adept in figures, a master in school. 
At the head of his class he is found as a rule. 

A novice in science he will not remain, 

Then struggles and strives these acquirements to gain; 

A gay, happy youth, with a well laden plan. 

He's preparing the way for the future great man. 

Then grown into manhood, matured in his years, 
A Samson in strength, and devoid of all fears; 
Now ready to journey on life's rugged way — 
Courageous, impetuous, happy and gay. 

All obstacles that in his path may appear 
To hinder his progress — all these he will clear; 
His journey to him seems a well beaten road. 
While gaily and proudly he carries his load. 

'Mid clashing of arms and with guns belching fire 
We see him press onward, an undismayed sire; 
A hero, a soldier, in battle's loud din — 
Braving bullets and sabres the victory to win. 



AND OTHER POEMS 233 



Then rests in the shade at the noontide of life, 
Surrounded by children and a good loving wife; 
The singing of birds and the sweet scented flowers 
Lend charms to his soul in the cool, leafy bowers. 

Now ripe in experience, with well-balanced mind, 
A statesman or jurist the subject we find; 
Step by step he has climbed the steep, rugged hill, 
Well fitted in life every station to fill. 

Then calmly looks back through the dim, distant past, 
On the fair dotted landscape, which with step firm and fast 
He has left far behind at the close of each day 
On his journey through life as he hied on his way. 

But the chill wintry blasts that forever moan by 
On life's rugged hill, blanch his face, dim his eye; 
The burden of years turns his locks into gray, 
While the vigor of manhood is passing away. 

When, filled with remorse o'er mistakes of the past. 
Then comes there a change o'er the hero at last; 
No glow to him now from the sun's slanting ray. 
While the lustre of glory is fading away. 

Old age bending low, with his staff by his side. 
Then slowly moves on with his short, measured stride, 
Down life's rugged hillside to seek his repose, 
A wanderer weary of life's sins and woes. 

To him this wide world has no charms any more. 
For his friends and his kindred have all gone before; 
Devoid of ambition through life's ebbing flame 
He wanders along without purpose or aim. 



234 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

An outcast, a wanderer, despised of all men, 
He longs for a home, be it a cave in some glen, 
Where alone in the world he can eke out his days 
Unmolested by man, unrestrained in his ways. 

With none to console him or cheer on his way, 
He endeth life's journey and passes away; 
The life that had clung to his body for years 
Has gone to his Maker sans sighs, without tears. 

No pillows to smooth with some kind, friendly care, 
To moisten the lips or to brush back the hair; 
He is gone to his Saviour, gone home to his God — 
Gone home to yon heaven, that blissful abode. 

Oh God ! in Thy mercy look down upon those 
Who constantly wander 3^et find no repose; 
Those aged wayfarers now nearing their end, 
With naught to sustain them and none to befriend. 

Who knows but that these might have seen better daj'S, 
When life was more charming, more pleasant their ways; 
Perhaps dire misfortune has swept all away 
And left them forsaken outcasts on the way. 



January iS, 1893. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



235 



Life's Sunset 



T stood upon a mountain 

^ Just before the close of day, 

To watch the lengthening shadows 

Stealing softly on their way 
O'er valleys and o'er meadows, 

Like a gently falling shower, 
Gathering up in their embraces 

Every tree and leafy bower. 

I watched them creeping upward 

On the slope of yonder hill, 
Where the copse and growing timber 

Hide the gently flowing rill. 
While the scintillating sunbeams 

In the cooler evening air, 
Fell with subdued intenseness 

While I stood and lingered there. 

I watched the golden sunset 

From that eminence so high, 
While beyond, the shades of evening 

Fell upon each passer-by; 
And I saw on the horizon 

Where the gathering mist and haze 
Formed themselves into a cloudlet 

To subdue his dazzling rays. 

Then a bank of clouds loomed upward 
From beyond horizon's brow, 

Shedding ' round a golden lustre 
On the hilltops far below; 



236 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then behind this purple curtain 
Hung against the western sky, 

I could see the sun descending 
With my unprotected eye. 

There, like a crown of glory 

Sat upon the orb of day, 
I could see the colors blending 

As I watched each parting ray; 
Then a wave like silver lining, 

Trimmed with fringe of purest gold, 
Seemed to form upon this curtain 

Too resplendent to behold. 

Long there I stood and lingered, 

Spell -bound upon the spot, 
Where the sun, in his descending. 

Had such wondrous lustre wrought, 
Unmindful of the storm-cloud 

That was looming in the west. 
With its fringe of gold and purple 

On its deep uneven crest. 

Hark ! the sound of rolling thunder 

Seems to echo from afar, 
lyike the rumbling of huge chariots 

Moving on to strife and war; 
I could see the lightning flashes 

While the storm was drawing nigh 
Like huge guns of war exploding 

In the far-off western sky. 

Heaven's loud artillery, booming, 
Shook the earth from pole to pole, 

And electrified all objects 
That came under its control. 



AND OTHER POEMS 237 



Like the pole of some large magiiet 
Loomed the mountain crest on high, 

To receive the zigzag flashes 
Of the lightning from the sky. 

Prudence warned me not to linger 

Long upon the mountain crest, 
And I homeward haste my journey 

To be housed up with the rest, 
While the rain drops still are falling 

Mid the storm king's dash and roar, 
With the lightning's blinding flashes 

While the storm is passing o'er. 

With an awful fate impending 

While the furious storm may last, 
We are prone to seek our Maker 

To sustain us to the last; 
But when receding thunder 

Tells us that the storm is o'er, 
From our hearts this dread impression 

Seems to be removed once more. 

Oh ! that man, this sinful atom 

In creation's mystic role. 
With a mind by sin untrammeled 

Could his sinful ways control ! 
Then when sin and danger threaten, 

And when storms and thunders roll. 
He may journey on to Heaven 

With a cleansed and ransomed soul. 



July 2, 1893. 



238 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Look Out! There Are vSpooks About! 



THEY tell me this town is infested with spooks 
Which keep in dark places, or hide in the nooks, 
Or shadows of stables, away from the light. 
Where they have been seen on some dark, gloomy night. 

They've been seen in the shape of a man and a woman. 
Which would go far to show that these beings are human; 
But whether these rumors are true I can't say, 
Although circumstances would point just that way. 

Some say they are spirits just dropped from the sky 

And landed on earth their vocation to ply; 

But then I have never been able to tell 

What object they have in this borough to dwell. 

Nor have I been able to learn what they're doing, 
Unless they are courting, or larking or wooing; 
But then I was taught that where spirits abound 
The beasts of the flesh there are not to be found. 

The oak tree that stood by the side of the street 
Was the spectres' headquarters, for here they would meet 
And exchange friendly greetings, or meet on the sly 
In nightly carousals in ages gone by. 

But now since this tree that stood close by the mine 
Was lately cut down and removed, I opine 
The spooks were obliged their headquarters to change. 
For now they inhabit a much wider range. 



AND OTHER POEMS 239 



Sometimes they are seen in the lumber yard near, 

Where they frisk and carouse ' mongst the piles without fear, 

Or keep in the shade of some huge lumber pile, 

Where, in these cool nights, many hours they beguile. 

Sometimes they are seen in the alleys in pairs, 
In wagons that are left at the shops for repairs, 
And ride up and down in these alleys for sport, 
With cupids to drag them around while they court. 

From unfrequented stables at times they will come, 
Then briskly but noiselessly hasten on home. 
Just where their homes are I could never find out; 
But that they are spooks I have not the least doubt. 

But what is a spook ? some frail person might ask; 
This for me to explain is a difficult task. 
They are spectres, or shadows, I merely will say. 
That stalk forth by night, but are not seen by day. 

Invisible beings they surely must be 

In daytime, or else any person might see; 

But whether of weight or of substance endowed 

I in my researches could never find out. 

A singular habit concerning these ghosts 
Is that they can never be found in large hosts; 
In pairs they can only be found, as related. 
And then as a rule they are fairly well mated. 

In all my researches I never could find 

In their nightly larks there were two of a kind; 

This would lead one to think that these spectres are human, 

And I really believe they're a man and a woman. 

Boyertown Oct. 26, 1891. 



!40 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Lost and starved to Death in the AUeghenies 



A small pamphlet entitled "The Lost Children of the AUeghenies, and 
How They Were Found Through a Dream," in prose, written by Mr. Charles 
R. McCarthy, of Huntingdon, Pa., forms the basis for the following poem. 
The story is no fiction, but an actual occurrence that happened on April 24, 
1856. The children were found fifteen days afterwards, and buried in 
Mountain Cemetery, Bedford County, Pa. Rev. A. H. Long, who is still 
living, delivered the funeral sermon, taking for his text Rev. 7th chapter, 
9th verse. 

Some fifteen or twenty miles south of Gallitzin, a station on the Penn- 
sylvania railroad, is Spruce Hollow, at the foot of the AUeghenies, in Bed- 
ford County. "From the mouth of this ravine to the settlements on the 
other side of the Allegheny range of mountains is fully fifteen miles, while 
the forest extends for miles on either side. Over this vast mountain range 
are numerous rugged peaks and deep hollows, through which flow a number 
of creeks and mountain streams. During the Spring months, when these 
streams are swollen by the melting snow, the waters rush down these deep 
lavines on their wild, mysterious errand, as though each one was trying to 
outrun its fellows in reaching the Juniata river below. And while this part 
of the mountain has numerous high peaks, hills and hollows, much of it is 
level and covered thickly with undergrowth timber and brush, making it 
difficult in many places to pass through it, there is such a sameness about it 
that old hunters sometimes get lost and have trouble to find their way out." 



I crave your attention, kind reader, awhile, 
To journey with me to the mountain defile 
As Spruce Hollow known, where a small cabin stood 
On the banks of a stream, near the dark and dense wood. 

Here Samuel Cox dwelt, with Susannah, his wife, 

Who led here a quiet and peaceable life. 

With their happy young darlings named Joseph and George, 

In their cosy retreat near the deep mountain gorge. 



AND OTHER POEMS 241 



They came from a country where fever prevailed. 
Where sickness with them had much suffering entailed; 
To save their own lives and their children's as well, 
They came back to live near this dark, lonely dell. 

Now back once again to their own native hills, 
In the pure mountain air, by the clear sparkling rills. 
Their health soon returned, and they lived here in peace 
With God and with man, and with conscience at ease. 

In worldly goods poor, but with hearts true and tried, 
Their wants were but few, and with ease these supplied; 
And now that their children were living and well, 
They felt satisfied in that lone mountain dell. 

But, alas ! how uncertain are all human joys ! 
What miser}^ in store for those dear little boys ! 
What grief and what woe and what anguish of heart 
In store for those parents on their dear children's part ! 

A dark cloud is rising to dim the clear sky 
Unknown, and unseen by the frail human eye, 
A cloud that is destined their pleasure to gloom — 
Their treasures untimely to send to the tomb. 

One morning in April, while seated around 
The table at breakfast, he heard the deep sound 
Of his dog, who was barking hard by in the wood, 
A furlong from where their small tenement stood. 

The dog, in his rambles, as oft was the case. 
Would start up a squirrel and then would give chase. 
As usual the squirrel would run up a tree 
Where it would look down its tormentor to see. 

Mr. Cox to his wife softly made the remark: 

"When through with ray breakfast, should Rover still bark, 



242 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

I'll take down my gun and the squirrel I'll kill — 
'Twill serve for a pot-pie to grace the noon meal." 

From the pegs in the joists where the old shotgun lay 
He took it and started the squirrel to slay, 
Leaving wife and both sons at their unfinished meal 
While a march on the game he intended to steal. 

But failing to find it he returned to his home 
By a different route from the one he had come; 
Had he been aware that they had followed him out 
Then would he have taken the same homeward route. 

Not seeing the children, inquiry he made: 
"Sue, where are the children ?" She then to him said, 
' 'When breakfast was over the children went out — 
Since then I've not noticed them playing about." 

As there was but little land cleared 'round the house 
It did not take long their worst fears to arouse; 
They surely had followed him up to the wood, 
And now might be lost in the dense underwood. 

Now greatly alarmed, to the mountain they ran 
To seek them, each nook and each pathway to scan, 
Both calling by name their sons Joseph and George, 
As quickly they ran up the deep mountain gorge. 

But alas ! they were gone, and nowhere could they find 
The route they had taken — no trace left behind; 
When, thinking their sons might have found their way home, 
They both hastened back from the deep mountain gloom. 

But they were not there. The stillness of death 
Pervaded that home. Then, with quick, panting breath. 
To their neighbors they hurried to make the facts known — 
That their children were lost ! that their darlings were gone ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 243 



Then hastened they back to the mountain again, 
Now aided by many to search through the glen; 
While others on foot and on fleetest horse sped, 
The news to each village and hamlet to spread. 

The grave situation each one understood. 
And every one hastened to search through the wood, 
While every one knew that whate'er could be done 
Must quickly be done, or the boys would be gone. 

With feelings like these in the minds of the men, 
The ploughmen unharnessed their steeds on the plain 
And hastened along to the far distant wood 
To join in the search through the deep underwood. 

The dealers in merchandise closed up their stores 
And hied to the mountain on foot and on horse; 
Mechanics left tools with their work incomplete — 
All eager to search came with hurrying feet. 

Though late was the hour when the news w^as first spread, 
From village to house as the fleet horsemen sped — 
"Cox's children are lost in the deep mountain glen" — 
Then quickly responded the youths and the men. 

From the crags and the cliffs of each towering hill 
Rang out to the echo, with voice loud and shrill, 
From two hundred throats the loud calls of the men. 
To die out at last in some far distant glen. 

At sunset that day every hill-top and plain 

Some miles from their home had been traversed again; 

Each dell and ravine, as the shades of night fell, 

Was searched without footprints their wanderings to tell. 

Night closed on the scene. From ravine, crag and crest. 
Some homeward now hastened to gain needed rest. 



244 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The air grew much colder, while from the northwest 
A storm cloud loomed upward with dark, purple crest. 

A new danger threatened the wanderers now; 

The air became laden with flakes of fine snow. 

Too light were their garments to keep themselves warm — 

No hut in the mountains to shield from the storm. 

Worn out with exertion, in utter dismay 

The father entreated the searchers to stay, 

To search through the mountains with fagots for light, 

And to keep embers burning throughout the whole night. 

A number remained o'er the mountains to roam, 
While others returned to the parents' sad home 
To comfort and cheer them in this their sore grief, 
But in their deep sorrow could give no relief. 

All those who had followed their grief to express 
Now stood and wept with them, but could not address 
The grief -stricken parents with words to console — 
To lessen the anguish they could not control. 

Too awful their anguish, too bitter their woe 
To listen to kind words of mortals below; 
In their great anxiety God, He alone 
For all their great sorrow and grief could atone. 

And should it seem strange that the parents should weep ? 
That hunger were absent, and banished all sleep? 
That grief for the lost ones should trouble the mind 
Of parents for offspring which they could not find ? 

Had sickness befallen their dear little boys 
And marred all their pleasures and innocent joys, 
With nursing most careful, beneath their own eye 
Should they then succumb, and at last should they die, 



AND OTHER POEMS 245 



Oh ! then it were comfort to know that the dead 
Had died through kind nursing on soft downy bed; 
Had died with their prayers, and fallen asleep, 
Oh ! then 'twere consoling to wail and to weep. 

But out on the mountain where chilly winds sweep; 
Where wild beasts are roaming — small comfort to weep. 
The thought was too terrible, there to expose 
Their darlings to dangers, and hence their deep woes. 

No mortal can compass the anguish of heart 
Of parents from children thus sudden to part; 
Forebodings most terrible thus to endure — 
Beyond human comfort, beyond human care. 

The elder, named "George," was but seven years old 
When with his young brother they strayed from the fold; 
With dark hair and blue eyes, and intellect keen. 
In leading his brother he often was seen. 

The younger, named "Joseph," with countenance fair, 
Was five years of age, with grey eyes and light hair; 
Both small for their age, but with intellects bright — 
The joys of the household, the parents' delight. 

To guard his young brother the older essayed 
While romping or roaming, when childlike they played; 
Thus passed their days sweetly until their death knell 
Was sounded when onward they strayed to the dell. 

The old-fashioned clock in the corner stood near 
True marking the seconds, with sounds loud and clear, 
While hour on hour the time it would tell 
To sorrowful hearts as its doleful sounds fell. 

So slowly, so lonely the hours passed by 

That night, as they waited with tear-bedimmed eye 



246 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The morning's return to renew once again 

The search through each valley, each hillside and glen. 

From northwest to north, a cold, piercing wind 
Had shifted its quarter, and filled each one's mind 
With fear for the lost, who, if now living still. 
Might perish from cold on some far remote hill. 

With garments too scanty to shield from the frost, 
With no fire to warm by, and no food for the lost, 
At last morning dawned, but no tidings had come 
Of the wandering ones to that sorrowful home. 

The day had scarce dawned to dispel the night's shade 
From mountain and hill-top, and woodland's dark glade, 
When scores were seen coming, all bent in their mind 
To aid in the search the lost children to find. 

In eager groups came they and hied on their way 
Prepared to continue the search through the day; 
Some few lagged behind them once more to explore 
That part of the mountain they'd traversed before. 

In hopes that while roving through woodland and plane 
The children had wandered to those parts again; 
The others made haste to encompass the hills, 
To search through the thickets and copse by the rills. 

Each marsh and each swamp, through each separate dale. 
By them was explored, so each hillside and vale, 
Each rock on the hillside, each crag, one and all, 
Re-echoed the sound of the searchers' loud call. 

No answering sound from the wanderers came; 
The day was far spent, yet no trace of the same 
Was seen by the searchers throughout the whole day, 
As hour after hour in the search passed away. 



AND OTHER POEMS 247 



No traces behind them the story to tell 
Of wailing, while roaming through woodland and dell, 
And when at last, night settling down on the scene, 
Then homeward the searchers to hasten were seen. 

To heart-broken parents through grief and dismay 
The night, full of anguish, passed slowly away, 
And when morning dawned, cold and dreary, and bleak, 
Came hundreds again the lone* wanderers to seek. 

A thousand were scattered on hills far and near. 
To search many miles through the hills bleak and drear; 
Through recesses deep of each dark, rocky glen, 
Pressed onward the people to search, but in vain. 

The steep, rocky sides of the moutains to seek 
The children, they clambered; examined each peak. 
Examined each nook and explored each retreat. 
In faint expectations the children to meet. 

But in vain all their efforts; night came on once more, 
With cold, chilly winds, as experienced before; 
The hope they had cherished the children to find 
Alive, was now well nigh dispelled from the mind. 

The night passed in sadness so slowly away. 
Inclement again was the following day; 
Yet such was the ardor displayed by the men 
To aid in the search that they all came again. 

And with them came others to swell the large throng 
Until full two thousand were hurrying along; 
While prospects to find them grew less day by day, 
More eager the people to speed on their way. 

No comfortings now, and no faint ray of hope 
Came to that poor mother from mountain and slope, 



248 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

While daily the searchers the mountain and plain 
Searched over in hopes to return them again. 

As hopes had all fled to behold them once more, 
With her misery's cup was indeed running o'er; 
And thus it did seem to all those who were bound 
To search for the lost ones until they were found. 



FALSELY ACCUSED 

But they were mistaken — no one was aware 
'Mongst those who were searching with diligent care, 
A vile human fiend, with a treacherous heart, 
Was with them and took such a prominent part. 

This monster accused them, with words clear and plain, 
That they in some manner their children had slain. 
In this way expecting compassion to gain 
And money from people by fraud thus obtain. 

A few kindred spirits, with too willing ear, 
The story gave credence, and then, without fear, 
They tore up the floor of the cabin with care, 
To see if the children were not buried there. 

The garden was searched, and examined each mound 
Where cereals were stored, but no traces were found 
Those hard-hearted men with their search to reward — 
Naught would the least trace of the lost ones afford. 

This false accusation, so cruel, unkind, 
With deep indignation filled everyone's mind; 
In fear from the rage of these resolute men 
They quickly withdrew, and returned not again. 



AND OTHER POEMS 249 



Then soon came glad tidings that traces were found — 
Small footprints, where they had meandered around 
Far out in the mountain, some ten miles away, 
Where thickly the sands in their native bed lay. 

Each heart leaped with joy when the rumor was spread 

From one to the other, as on the sounds sped 

To that lonely hut at the foot of the hill, 

The heart of the mother with new hope to thrill. 

Some hundreds of people were standing around 
The spot, where the footprints so plainly were found; 
Then started they forward with well studied plan 
Each part of the mountain minutely to scan. 

The search now with vigor was quickly renewed — 
The mind of each hunter with fresh hope imbued. 
In full expectation they now soon would find 
The lost little children filled every one's mind. 

How anxiously now was the mother's quick ear 
While straining and posing the first sounds to hear. 
From far distant mountain glad tidings to bring — 
' 'The children are found' ' through woodland to ring. 

Methinks I see standing at the old garden gate 
The woe-begone mother, and anxiously wait 
To hear the faint echo through mountains resound 
The soul-stirring tidings "The children are found." 

She heard a faint sound while still lingering there, 
As it came floating by in the cool evening air; 
'Twas naught but the moan of the cool evening breeze, 
As softly it swept through the evergreen trees. 

It seemed as though nature was mocking her then, 

As moaning sounds came from that dark mountain glen; 



250 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Even the ravens tliat flitted, with answering "caw," 
From tree-top to tree-top, her mind filled with awe. 

The robins and bluebirds, true heralds of spring, 
To her troubled mind could no solace now bring; 
To her all was gloom, all beclouded the sky 
Seemed to her sad gaze through her tear-bedimmed eye. 

Her hopes were all banished while waiting in vain — 
No sound reached her ears from the mountain again; 
Now sore disappointment filled every one's breast 
As darkness enveloped each valley and crest. 

The sun had gone down, and as darkness increased, 
To search for the children the people now ceased, 
For night with its gloom, in that wide mountain range, 
Was fraught with its dangers in districts so strange. 

Another dark night with its terror and gloom 
To those little ones in the mountain had come; 
Disheartened and crestfallen, each in his mind 
Had doubts whether they now the children could find. 

The cold winds which swept o'er that wild mountain range 
Now ceased, and a stillness so mournful and strange 
Pervaded the landscape where deep shadows fell — 
On wooland, on mountain, on hillside and dell. 

No voice, not a sound to the listening ear came. 
Save the howl of the wolf or the panther's loud scream 
While seeking its prey on that dark, gloomy night, 
Or seeing its mate through the dense wooden height. 

These sounds brought deep sadness as piercing they fell 
On ears used to hear them from mountain and dell; 
They knew if alive, in their helplessness they 
Would fall easy victims to wild beast of prey. 



AND OTHER POEMS 251 



Conjectures were made as to the sad fate 
That fell to the lot of the children that strayed 
Away from their home, where in sadness now dwell 
The parents, now aged, near the lone mountain dell. 

Some Gypsies had lately been strolling that way; 
Might they not have taken the children away ? 
Some thought they were stolen by some secret clan 
And taught in their faith, by some well matured plan. 

Some thought that the lads in some streamlet were drowned 
Where likely their bodies would later be found; 
But most of them thought they w^ere wandering still 
About, almost famished, on mountain and hill. 

The latter prevailed, when with newdy laid plan 
The search was continued each portion to scan; 
Some leader or captain was chosen each day. 
In searching the mountain, to lead on the way. 

The searchers were formed in a line, facing front, 
In order to scan every point in the hunt. 
Each tree was examined, as well as each rock 
And bowlder that lay in the bed of each brook. 

The people each day took a different route 

To seek for the children still roaming about, (?) 

While some searched the sections gone over before 

To find them, if they should have strayed back once more. 

THEIR WAITINGS HEARD BY MRS. BENTAMER. 

Some six days had passed since the children had strayed 
Away from their homes where in childhood they played. 
That night, from the hills, through the stillness then came 
The wails of a child to the ears of a dame. 



252 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Far out on the mountain she plainly could hear 
The sounds which were borne on the still midnight air; 
Then word was sent quickly to neighbors around 
To haste to the spot where the boys could be found. 

A vigorous search on that still April night, 
On hills and on mountains, with lanterns for light, 
Was made by these people, but all was in vain — 
The cry of the children was not heard again. 

When morning returned came the people again 
From villages distant throughout that whole plain; 
All came with a firm and fixed purpose in mind — 
To keep up the search and the children to find. 

But few held out hopes that they still were alive, 
For how could mere children such hardships survive ? 
Thus reasoned these people, yet all these were bound 
To keep up the search, aye, until they were found. 

If living, then oh! with what rapturous joy 
The parents would welcome each dear little boy! 
Would hail with such gladness the soul-stirring sound 
Ring out through the mountains: "The children are found." 

If dead, oh ! what anguish, what sorrow, what woe 
To them ! Still, with all this, 'twas comfort to know 
That they had been spared by the wild beasts of prey 
Which prowled through the woods where in silence they lay. 

No trace, save those footprints, as yet had they seen. 
Where in their lost rambles the children had been. 
Might not some known sorcerer come to their aid 
To locate the place where the children had strayed ? 

Some noted magician, by some secret art 

To locate the children, might here act his part; 



AND OTHER POEMS 253 



Some witch or some wizard might clearly explain 
Where they could be found, and restore them again. 

Thus reasoned some kind hearted neighbors, 'twas said. 
Who in the vain search had all given their aid. 
Sincere in their faith of the sorcerer's art, 
These secrets to others they tried to impart. 



THE PEACH LIMB CRANK. 

In Morrison's Cove, by the wide mountain range, 
A colored man dwelt, who, mysterious, strange 
Devices employed to deceive and mislead 
All those in his faith whom he offered to lead. 

They sent for this man, who, to practice his art 
The limb of a peach tree selected — a part 
With two equal branches he cut from the limb, 
Then shaped and prepared it to satisfy him. 

Then taking a branch in each hand, with great care, 
(The base of the prong pointing up in the air) , 
At arm's length he held it, as slowly around 
He moved in a circle until he had found 

The course which the children had taken when they, 
Unseen, had departed from home on that day; 
When once the direction he found in this way 
The point would turn forward and thus it would stay. 

But should he once deviate out of the track. 

The point would swing round and directly point back; 

Mysterious things he revealed in his day 

By means of the peach limb, to point out the way. 



•54 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Almost to an inch he could tell, underground, 
Where plenty of water with ease could be found; 
Could tell where two streamlets would meet, tho' unseen, 
By means of his peach limb, cut fresh, and while green. 

Self confident now his vocation to ply, 
To locate the children with this he would try; 
Then started he forward that cool day in May — 
The fork of the peach limb still pointing the way. 

Up into the mountain some followed him near 
As onward he moved through the wood without fear. 
But none would his actions and methods applaud, 
For soon they discovered that he was a fraud. 

He soon lost his way in the dense underwood, 
While doubting, perplexed, like a statue he stood, 
And had it not been for the people about. 
He probably would not have found his way out. 

THE WITCH SENT FOR. 

But this did not satisfy all who were there. 
There was an old witch who resided somewhere 
In Somerset county, with powers unsurpassed 
By any and all who as witches were classed. 

Some few superstitious decided to send 

A messenger to her the search to attend. 

She came in due time to that wide moutain range 

To conjure up spirits mysterious and strange, 

Through some preternatural power of mind 
Revealed to her, that she the children could find. 
Some grotesque gyrations she slowly went through 
While strange incantations repeating anew. 



AND OTHER POEMS 255 



Then suddenly ceasing; she said she could tell 
Where they could be found in a far distant dell; 
She plainly could see them while hunting around 
For chestnuts that scattered lay there on the ground. 

On these they subsisted in that distant dell — 
That they were both living and both looking well, 
A nice bed of leaves now she plainty could see, 
Where nightl}^ they slept 'neath a large spreading tree. 

A thick clump of laurel protected the twain, 
And sheltered them from both the snow and the rain. 
All this the old hag said she plainly could see 
But could not find them without a good fee. 

"You gif me some money and then I can fine 
De childer," she said, — (a fat fee I opine). 
The cash was collected to make up the fee ; 
Then said the old woman, "You jist follow me, 

"I'll soon find de children." WMth staff in her hand 
She led on the way through the dense wooded land; 
The day was far spent, but she kept on her way 
Where up through Spruce Hollow the stony route lay. 

"Had you jis sent for me fust," said the old hag, 

"I soon would have found 'em and brought 'em safe back; 

Agin ten to morrow we'll have 'em safe a nuf; 

Dey's all right," the witch said, with voice loud and gruff. 

But night soon came on, and the search for the day 
Was ended as homeward they all went their waJ^ 
The night was quite cold, and a cold drizzly rain 
Fell through the dark valley, the mountain and plain. 

The morning brought hundreds of generous men 
To hie in the search to the mountain again; 



!56 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The witch was on hand with her staff as before 
To search for the children the wild mountain o'er, 

A number of those who all witchcraft eschewed 
Now followed the witch when the search was renewed, 
All curious to know how her conjuring would end, 
Though none would her actions and methods commend. 

Methinks I can see the old sorceress still, 

With staff in her hand, climbing up the steep hill; 

Now turning aside to avoid some high cliff 

Too rugged to climb for those limbs old and stiff. 

On through the dense woodland where timbers lay strewn 
In tangled profusion, by storm overthrown; 
On over deep ravines whose swollen streams played 
With low drooping branches which over them swayed. 

Far out in the mountain she still led the way 
When ten o'clock came on that cool day in May; 
Eleven, and twelve, thus the hours passed by — 
No signs of the lost ones could she yet espy. 

Still on went the charmer with self -doubting mind, 
Declaring that they soon the children would find. 
Thus wandered they on till the shades of night fell 
And shrouded in darkness each valley and dell. 

Exhausted and faint she sank down on the wa}', 
Unable now longer to journey that day; 
With rest, and with sleep, the old woman declared, 
She'd soon find the children — their lives would be spared. 

Another inclement and cheerless, cold night, 

Was passed on the mountain, with bonfires kept bright; 

A simple meal taken at break of the day, 

Then started the witch on her wearisome way 



AND OTHER POEMS 257 



In search of the children, with her staff as before, 
She leading the way and declaring once more 
That she would soon find them alive, and both well 
Where, lonely, they wandered in some nearby dell. 

Thus passed the hours by, still no traces were found 
To show where the lost ones had wandered around, 
While those who were with her could plainly perceive 
That she, too, was lost, and just tried to deceive. 

Her actions showed plainly that she did not know, 
To find the lost children which course to pmsue; 
Just leading them on through the woods roundabout, 
Until she herself was completely worn out. 

She seated herself on a log that lay nigh 
And said, to go further no longer she'd try; 
That she was too ill to proceed on the way — 
That she must return, and no longer would stay. 

But lost in that wild mountain region, again 

To go to her home in that far distant plain, 

The right course to take she would never have found 

Without the assistance of those standing 'round. 

In justice to Cox and his wife, be it said. 
That they had not sought for nor sanctioned such aid, 
While those who had faith in the old woman's art 
Were greatly ashamed for the act on their part. 

Now while there were some who had followed the twain 
To practice their art, but to practice in vain, 
Yet hundreds, 3'ea thousands, kept searching the hills. 
The mountains, the valleys, the brooks and the rills. 

Thus, over and over, each mountain and plain 

Was searched by the people, but all searched in vain. 



!58 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Yet each day, at dawn, came the thousands once more 
To search for the lost ones the wild mountains o'er. 

No money, exertion, nor time had been spared — 

To search through the mountains all came well prepared; 

All seemed most determined at least to find out 

How fared the young brothers while roaming about. 

From over that mountainous region they came 
To keep up the search for the children the same; 
More distant parts searched and explored they each day 
Through fields and through forests that lay in their way. 

When, hungry and sore at the close of each day, 
The searchers returned from their long, weary way, 
They found of provisions enough and to spare — 
Prepared by the ladies with generous care. 



REVEALED BY A DREAM. 



The search had continued ten nights and ten days. 
But save a few footprints, they found not a trace 
Where, in their lone rambles the children had strayed; 
No tidings to tell of the children's sad fate. 

The hopes they had cherished the children to find 
Still living, were banished from both parents' mind; 
Despondent they pined o'er the painful suspense — 
Distracted, almost, with their troubles intense. 

To them it would surely have been a relief 

To know they were dead. 'Twould have softened their grief 

To know that a natural death they had died. 

Where sweetly in death they could lay side by side. 



AND OTHER POEMS 259 



But God, in His secret, mysterious way, 

Would point out the spot where the dead children lay, 

To one, who as yet had not taken a part 

In searching. He now would the secret impart. 

While soundly he slept on that cold, cheerless night, 
A messenger came from the realms of light 
And showed Jacob Deibert the spot bright and clear 
Where, calmly in death, lay the brothers so dear. 

He dreamed he was out on the mountain alone 
In search of the children, when brightly there shone 
About him a light that lit up the vast scene 
Where, in their lone rambles, the children had been. 

He dreamed that he came to a deer that laid dead. 
That, fatally wounded, from hunters had fled 
Where, lost to the hunters, it died where it fell. 
Now food for the vultures in that lonely dell. 

Again, in his dream he made haste to renew 

The search on the route, where he found a small shoe; 

Continuing on to a large stream he came 

That flowed through the vale — but he knew not its name. 

This proved to be Bob's Creek, as later we'll see, 
Whose waters unhampered flowed on to the sea. 
Across this a birch log lay, spanning the stream, 
On which he crossed over that night in his dream. 

Then over Blue Ridge the journey he took; 
Then into a valley through which flowed a brook, 
Whose headwaters came from the wooded ravine 
Where laurels and ferns in profusion were seen. 

He followed the stream down through copse dense and rank 
To where a large birch tree stood close to its banks, 



26o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Whose large roots ran outward with circular sweep 
Down into the ground where the bank was most steep. 

There in a half circle, quite close to the stream, 
He found the dead children. Then vanished his dream. 
While dreams, he well knew, would mislead and deceive. 
That this was a dream he could scarcely believe. 

The strange revelation would cling to his mind 
Throughout that whole day, while his thoughts were inclin'd 
The dream to regard as a call from on high 
To find the lost children his efforts to try. 

His wife had been brought up quite near to that stream. 
To her he related his wonderful dream, 
And asked whether there was a place like the one 
His mind was now constantly dwelling upon. 

There was such a place she remembered quite well. 
Where, often at eventide, from that lone dell 
She brought home the cows that had been browsing there 
Well shaded and screened from the sun's lurid glare. 

That night, w^hile he slept, came the vision once more 
To show him the route he had traversed before; 
Now, fully impressed that his dream must be true, 
Yet was he uncertain w^hat course to pursue. 

Were he to his neighbors his dream to explain 
He might be regarded as being insane; 
To start for the mountains and go o'er the route 
Alone, he might not again find his way out. 

Then came the third night, and he dreamed the same dream. 
The route was lit up with the same silver gleam; 
He went up the hollow, then passed the same deer — 
All this he saw plainly, with vision most clear. 



AND OTHER POEMS 261 



Then saw again lying the worn little shoe, 

As on he continued the route to pursue; 

Again on the birch log he crossed in his dream 

The stream known as Bob's Creek, a wild mountain stream, 

'Twas here be5'ond doubt where the children had crossed 
The stream, in their rambles, when weary and lost; 
Then crossed the Blue Ridge, which he clearly could see, 
And down the ravine where he saw the birch tree. 

He saw the curved roots where the dead children lay; 
The stream on whose banks where their lives ebbed away, 
Where weary and worn they had lain down to die — 
All this he saw clearly with wondering eye. 

He now felt so sure that his dream must be true 
The next day he started the route to pursue. 
To Harrison Wysong, his brother-in-law, 
He went and related the vision he saw. 

This person resided some twelve miles away, 
But near to the place where the dead children lay. 
In serious mood this request he then made : 
To find the lost children that he lend his aid. 

The place he described was some five miles away 
Where dwelt the fond parents when they went astray. 
He argued 'twere folly the lads there to seek, 
For how could thej'^ ever have crossed o'er Bob's Creek ? 

That stream was a large one when swollen by rains — 
To seek them beyond this they'd taken no pains, 
For no one supposed they this stream could have crossed 
Without being drowned, and forever thus lost. 

All arguments failed to dissuade Deibert's mind. 
For he seemed determined the children to find. 



262 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

"If you will not give me your much valued aid 
Alone I will go then," thus Jake Deibert said. 

Now, fearing that he would be lost on the way, 
To go with him Wysong now made no delay; 
The route indicated by Deibert, they found, 
L,ed onward and upward o'er unexplored ground. 

They came to the spot where the dead deer they found 
When it had been lost to both hunter and hound. 
"It's just as I saw it," said Deibert to him, 
"When sleeping so soundly I had the strange dream." 

Then found they the worn little shoe where it lay 

When left by the lads on their wearisome way; 

Next Bob's Creek they reached where lay, spanning the stream, 

The birch log they found that he saw in his dream. 

As though he had traveled it many times o'er, 
Familiar the route seemed, though never before 
Had he been there save in his wonderful dream — 
Had never before seen that wild mountain stream. 

They crossed over Blue Ridge down to the ravine 
Where flowed Gypsy Creek with its bright, silver sheen; 
More open the woodland appeared to their view 
As downward they journeyed the route to pursue. 

"This," said Mr. Deibert, "is just like my dream. 
See yonder large tree on the banks of the stream ? 
The tree that I point out must be the birch tree 
Where, dead at its roots, both the children we'll see." 

They went to the tree where, amazed, they both stood. 
For there, cold in death, at its tortuous root, 
lyay both the lost children, close to the small stream 
That had been revealed in his wonderful dream. 



AND OTHER POEMS 263 



The fifteenth and last day for searching had come, 
When hundreds of people assembled at dawn 
To find the lost children, the search to renew 
Through forest and mountain where large timber grew. 

Already the plow in the unfinished plot 

Had stood fourteen days on the same unploughed spot. 

Mechanics their unfinished work had delayed 

To search for the lost ones, to give willing aid. 

Donations were given with generous hand 

To keep up the search through that mountainous land; 

The mountain re-echoed with voices of men, 

All eager to search for the lost ones again. 

Messrs. Deibert and Wysong were well on their way 
To cross the Blue Ridge where the route, revealed, lay. 
No one in his vision had faith — they believed 
In following him they would all be deceived. 

That part of the mountain had not been explored. 
The reason seemed plain why it should be ignored — 
No one would believe that the children had crossed 
Bob's Creek when they in their rambles were lost. 

Towards noon on that day were the welcome news spread; 
"The children are found !" But alas, they were dead ! 
So faint in the distance was borne by the breeze 
The words "they are found," thro' the copse and the trees, 

That scarce could the ear comprehend the faint swell 
Of the shout that arose from that dark, distant dell. 
Then louder and louder came the fast swelling sound: 
"The children are found ! aye, the children are found !" 



264 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

From bill-top to hill-top the loud echeos fell 

To die out at last in some far distant dell, 

O'er hills and through dales in that vast mountain range, 

On, on went the shout, swelled the loud echoes strange. 

Like the roar of the storm when the tall pines are bent, 
Subsiding at last when its forces are spent. 
So hundreds of men that took up the glad shout 
"The children are found," on the hills 'round about, 

Swelled the sound where on far distant hill-top it fell 
To die out at last with the receding swell, 
Where, startled the deer, that, unused to the sound, 
Would pause in its flight from the merciless hound. 

In long lines came hundreds to view the wierd place 
Where lay the young brothers in death's cold embrace; 
From every direction men came on their way 
To the cold mountain glen where the dead children lay, 

Each eager to view, with his eyes dimmed by tears. 
The victims of death in their innocent years; 
They sadly stood by their emotions to quell 
While the father was nearing the place in the dell. 

But he was unable to hasten along 
Apace with the rest in the gathering throng. 
Assisted by some to the place where they lay, 
To heart-rending grief his emotions gave way. 

While stooping low o'er them the bitter tears fell 

On the thin, wasted forms, where they starved in that dell; 

All joined in his grief as they gathered around 

The spot where the dead brothers lay on the ground. 

That they through starvation had died it was plain, 
For naught could they find their frail lives to sustain; 



AND OTHER POEMS 265 



Their thin, wasted bodies, now lifeless and cold, 
To all that stood round them the plain story told. 

The deep lacerations could plainly be seen 
Where pain from the brambles and thorns had been keen; 
From crowding through thickets their clothing was torn, 
And hung in mere shreds where the same had been worn. 

Their shoes, newly soled ere they left their dear home 
Were worn out from wand 'ring through the deep mountain 

gloom; 
All evidence showed that while wand' ring around, 
And crying for bread, that this place they had found, 

Where, worn out and weary, and faint from fatigue. 

Exhausted they fell where repose they might seek. 

But Joseph, the younger, could travel no more; 

Then George, from the creek, brought a stone to the shore. 

To serve for a pillow, this stone, smooth and flat, 
Would answer for Joseph; then placed his own hat 
Upon it, for pillow, to rest his weak head. 
Then tenderly nursed him until he was dead. 

Methinks I can see him as the hours passed by, 
To soothe and to calm him when Joseph would cry, 
To moisten his lips from the creek flowing by, 
To ease up his pillow when death appeared nigh. 

To smooth back the hair from the cool, clammy brow; 
To call him by name with a voice faint and low, 
Half conscious while resting upon his cold bed. 
There watching beside him until he was dead. 

His whining, his wailing, faint calling I hear 
To rouse from his slumber his brother so dear, 



266 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then falls back, exhausted from hunger and cold, 
Beside his dead brother — sad sight to behold. 

Still wailing and weeping, and calling by name; 
Still trying to rouse him his life to reclaim, 
Then softly and sweetly he sinks into rest 
To join him again in the home of the blest. 



A sled was soon furnished on which to convey 
The dead children homeward some seven miles away; 
All followed in silence with low, drooping head, 
The sled to the home with the two precious dead. 

The following Sabbath their funeral was held, 
When thousands of people their bodies beheld; 
Both placed in one cofl&n the dead children lay 
Side by side as they died from their home far away. 

The pathos and feeling displayed by Rev. Long 
Brought tears to the eyes of that sorrowing throng 
When, sad, and in silence, with low drooping head. 
They stood 'round the bier of the innocent dead. 

Oh ! who can imagine what sufferings they bore 
In tramping those mountain wilds o'er and o'er; 
When, famished and weary, exhausted, they fell 
At the side of the tree in that dark, wooded dell. 

Methinks I can see them trip lightly away. 
Unknown to their mother, that cool April day; 
They enter the woodland of underbrush clear, 
While, barking, the dog in the distance they hear. 

They see far beyond them their father haste on 
With powder horn, shot-bag and trusty old gun; 



AND OTHER POEMS 267 



They quicken their pace, but he soon disappears 
In thick undergrowth. This arouses their fears. 

For a time they run after him, but all vain 
They call him. He hears not. They call him again. 
O'ertaken by fear in the dense wooded gloom 
They halt, and decide to return to their home. 

To retrace their footsteps now back to their home 
They start, but soon find they are lost in the gloom. 
I hear them both crying, and calling again, 
Still calling for father, but calling in vain. 

Then hither and thither they wildly rush on 
Through copse and dense underwood, onward, still on; 
They hear the faint echo up through the dark glen, 
When, calling for father, they hear it again. 

They think some one answers as loudly they call; 
They start up the glen over brambles and all. 
But grim death awaits them as onward they roam — 
Each step leads them farther from mother and home. 

No kind mother present their hunger to still. 
As onward they tramp up the high, wooded hill; 
No dinner awaits them, no supper there spread; 
No warm stove to sit by, no soft, downy bed. 

Now hungry and cold from the damp mountain air, 
They seek for some shelter to pass the night there; 
Their garments are damp from the fast falling snow 
Which chills their frail bodies as onward they go. 

The gloom of the night is fast closing around. 

Which finds them still tramping the snow-covered ground; 

The fear of the night fills each wanderer's breast 

As weary they crawl 'neath some bushes to rest. 



268 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The howl of the wolf on the mountain at night 

When home with their parents had filled them with fright; 

That howl in the distance now plainly they hear; 

In fear they imagine the wolves drawing near. 

The screams of the wildcat and panther they hear, 
And huddle still closer together through fear; 
Still calling for succor they fitfully weep — 
Still sobbing and crying, at last fall asleep. 

But gnawings of hunger awake them once more, 
With garments now frozen on limbs stifi" and sore; 
Thus passed they the night on the green mountain side; 
At break of the day on their wand 'rings they hied. 

They strain every nerve to return to their home, 

While weary and hungry they uselessly roam 

O'er swift mountain streams and thro' swamps on their way, 

Down into ravines where the large bowlders lay. 

On over high peaks where the rocks, grim and bare. 
Impeded their progress while clambering there; 
They both cry for succor, but both cry in vain 
For father and mother, then push on again. 

Down into some gully their thirst to allay; 
Now pausing and list'ning, then start on their way; 
No sustenance find thej^ their lives to sustain. 
Which, famished and hungry, they seek but in vain. 

Too weak to go further, they stumbled and fell 
O'er the roots of the tree in that lone mountain dell. 
Where ebbed out the life of each dear little boy — 
The pride of the father, a fond mother's joy. 

Wherever she turned in that once happy home 
Naught saw she around her but sorrow and gloom; 



AND OTHER POEMS 269 



Their garments, their playthings, their trinkets and toys, 
Brought tears to her eyes at the thought of her boys. 

The night winds bring sadness as softly they moan 
Around the low eaves of that once happy home; 
They bring back to memory thoughts mingled with pain 
When she thinks of her boys as they loom up again. 

Forty years have elapsed since the children had crossed 
That threshold and wandered away and were lost; 
Those years have now tempered the grief of the mind, 
Though sad recollections still linger behind. 



Feb. 22, i{ 



Lost in the Woods 



Two men on urgent business bent upon a Summer day, 
Rigged up a team to make a trip twelve miles or so away 
Up through Pike Township, on an errand up among the hills, 
Where bubble cooling waters to give power to the mills. 

The roads were rough and badly washed from many a heavy rain. 
And so the two concluded that in order time to gain, 
When once through with their business on that eventful day, 
They would select another route when on their homeward way. 

A hotel, of the country sort, came plainly into view 
As on they journeyed on their trip as fast the moments flew; 
Some nine miles had been traversed when the hotel hove in sight, 
And as the day was sultry they decided to alight. 



270 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

They hitched the horse in cooling shade in front of the hotel, 
And with a leaky pump hard by drew water from the well 
For thirsty horse — no hostler seemed to be about the place, 
Nor could they find, when nosing around, a jolly boniface 

To greet them with a pleasant smile and ask the strangers in 
To quaff his cooling liquids or to sip old rye and gin; 
The bar room door stood wide ajar, the shutters all closed tight. 
Which made it dark and gloomy when no landlord was in sight. 

A lot of empty bottles were in cases just outside, 

But as no landlord was in view it caused them to decide 

To hasten on their journey and to do their level best 

To finish up their business while the landlord took a rest. 

This done, they promptly started out upon their homeward way. 

To be in time for dinner on that sultry summer day. 

To find a nearer cut for home they both resolved to try 

To strike the road for Pikeville, for their throats were getting dry. 

Up sloping hills and down steep grades they journeyed on the way, 

Until they spied that little town a mile or so away; 

There, once refreshed with pretzels, and with crackers, beer and 

cheese, 
They left there at an easy jog to get home by degrees. 

To reach there in the shortest time they took the nearest route. 

Relying on the finger-boards to help them safely out. 

A finger-board where forked the road, to Shanesville showed the 

way; 
They took that road, for that small town in that direction lay. 

The road led up a steep incline, was graded, bridged and wide, 
Then led into the wilderdess along the mountain side; 
On, on, they struggled up the hill, with many a jolt and jar, 
With no untoward incident their pleasant (?) trip to mar. 



AND OTHER POEMS • 271 



On, past the blooming laurel, that were growing everywhere; 
On, past the waving fern leaves, that were scattered here and 

there; 
On, over hidden rocks and stones that in their pathway lay, 
Where insecure the foothold, as they journeyed on the way. 

No mortal foot had ever trod that rugged hill before 
Whereon they struggled on their way the country to explore. 
Then one explorer went ahead to pick the safest route, 
To find a place in those dense woods where they might turn 
about. 

A crow perched on a jutting branch gave out a warning "caw," 
When through the tangled underwood he strangers coming saw. 
Then with a vigorous flap of wings he left his perch so high 
When to the tree on which he perched the sweating men drew 
nigh. 

The chipmunks and the squirrels, too, were watching from their 

lair 
With dread the men they saw advancing there; 
The robins, thrushes, finches, jays, all watched with eager eye 
The struggles of the panting men as they passed slowly by. 

Then came they to an open space, though much against their 

will. 
Where men with chains and horses had been dragging up the hill 
The rails that lay profusely on the rough, unbroken ground. 
Where no way to get down that hill by them could now be found, 

Just then it dawned upon their minds that they were surely stuck. 
'Twas nothing but a timber road they in their route had struck, 
Then came the question, how to turn without sufficient room, 
To get out of the wilderness and head the horse for home. 



272 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

But then, 3^011 know when you are caught, or stick fast in a hole, 
You're bound to try expedients to get out safe and whole. 
And so these men, to turn around, soon found sufficient space 
Where they could turn their jaded team, their footsteps to 
retrace. 

A mile or so down hill, at last they struck the open road, 
And human habitations, where in peace white men abode; 
They both resolved, when on their way, that from henceforth no 

more 
They would engage, for lack of time, new country to explore. 

June 16, 1904. 



luck 



WHEN one thrives in his calling people say he has good luck, 
I rather think it is because he has a lot of pluck. 
We do not see the lazy ones succeed in any trade, 
For luck does not enrich a man without an effort made 
To earn a living and provide against a rainy day, 
As years their rapid courses run and decades pass away. 

Some men are always "hard up," and they call it their bad luck 
If things don't go just as they like, for lack of grit and pluck; 
Where others earn fair wages and then store a part away 
Of their hard earnings, when obtained, to use some future day, 
These sit upon their haunches and will envy those their lot 
Who prosper through hard labor and take care of what they've 
got. 



AND OTHER POEMS 273 



Some meet with great misfortunes which discourage an 5^ one, 

With no one to look up to nor a friend to lean upon; 

But what's the use of pining, or to give up in despair 

While life and health are spared you ? Then be up to do and dare; 

You will not famish by the way if you will do your part, 

Then strive to do your duty with a glad and cheerful heart. 

No one can hope to prosper if he trusts to luck alone; 
The bee that brings the honey helps to feed the lazy drone, 
And thus it sometimes happens when the wolf is at the door 
Of those who take it easy and neglect to lay in store, 
When sickness overtakes them, and the children wail and cry, 
That thrifty ones must chip in to procure a fresh supply. 

Then if you will investigate and sift the matter through. 

You will find that they are tipplers who can find no work to do; 

They are beer-soaked, lazy loafers, who will spend all they can 

earn 
For whisky and for beer and gin, for which their stomachs yearn, 
And when they have expended all and find that they are "stuck," 
They blame dame fortune for it all and call it their bad luck. 

lyuck means that 3'ou must hustle and your business must mind, 

Not meddling with the others who ma}^ leave you far behind; 

Luck means to keep appointments — never disappoint your friends 

Who may rely upon you, and are sure to make amends; 

Be up and doing early if j^ou wish to catch your train. 

And strive to do your duty, aye, with all your might and main. 

Luck means you must be honest in your dealings with mankind. 
For if you cheat them in transactions you will find 
That luck will turn against you, and you should not then complain 
If friends and fortune leave you, which j^ou can no more regain. 
Luck means you must be courteous if you meet both friend and 

foe; 
It means that you should comfort those in anguish and in woe. 



274 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Luck means that you should trust in God, for He alone can give 
The blessings that we here enjoy, as long as we may live; 
It means we should be thankful to the Lord for mercies sent — 
For health and life that we enjoy while here our time is spent, 
That when at last we droop and die our soul may take its flight, 
Now freed from carnel lusts and sin, to realms of clearest light. 

Oct. 21, 1903, 



Maud at the Seashore 



NOT all are rich nabobs that go to the shore 
To have a good time till the season is o'er; 
To show ofi" their clothes and to cut quite a dash 
Until they succeed, or they run short in cash. 

Perhaps some old folks have a daughter on hand 
They wish to dispose of, but cannot command 
The right sort of suitor in their narrow sphere 
Whom they could accept for their daughter so dear. 

And so they decide to the seashore to take 

Their loving young daughter, with Ma, for her sake. 

They may not be rich, but aspire to be so, 

And will, for her sake, many pleasures forego. 

May even themselves plain home comforts deny 
In order that they may a trousseau supply — 
A splendid, fine outfit of dresses galore 
For daughter to wear when she goes to the shore. 



AND OTHER POEMS 275 



Of ruffles and laces and jewels a lot; 
Of powders and paints and of rouge and what not ? 
To get such an outfit of jewels and trash 
Requires some tact and a whole lot of cash. 

To get it her Dad is run out on the street 
To tackle each friend who he happens to meet 
To loan him the needful, which he will repa}^ 
If he won't forget it, at some future da}'. 

The mantua-maker is hired by the week 

To fix up her gowns to look nice, trim and sleek; 

The milliner, too, gets a liberal share 

For costly head-gear at the seashore to wear. 

And when all is ready — the trunks filled and packed, 
The name of the owner with card thereon tacked — 
They board the next train and will hie to the shore 
To have a good time till the season is o'er. 

Poor Pa must stay home to keep bachelor's hall — 
Must do his own cooking, wash dishes and all; 
Must keep the house clean, and in order each room; 
Must sew on his buttons — how dreadful the gloom. 

With no one around in that dark, cheerless house. 
To answer his call, all is still as a mouse. 
Dad longs for fresh air, so he gets out his bike 
And paddles along o'er the rough, stony pike. 

Miles out on the road on his favorite wheel, 
To some faint relation to get a square meal; 
To pass lonely hours as he rests by the way, 
And then returns home at the close of the day. 

This act is repeated on different days. 

In divers directions, on well traveled ways, 



276 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Until they return from the seashore again 
When Summer is past, on the last inbound train. 

But what are they doing down by the wide sea ? 
Let's get out our kodak and snap them and see. 
They board at some mansion hotel on the strand 
Where crowds congregate from all parts of the land. 

Like thousands of others with aught else to do, 
They show up their style as they pass in review 
Upon the boardwalk where the critics are found, 
To pass on their merits in unceasing round. 

Ma's out for a purpose with Maud by her side, 
To show her around in her womanly pride; 
To show her fine points to the wondering crowd 
That moves on the boardwalk so happy and proud. 

They're out for a catch, ah ! so tempting the bait ! 
Some young man to capture they linger and wait. 
But day by day passes, while none has been caught; 
Her plans, though well laid, have resulted in naught. 

So back to their room at the close of the day 
Disheartened, discouraged, her Ma leads the way, 
To get up some scheme, some unusual plan 
Whereby they may capture some stylish young man. 

'Tis then they resolve one more effort to make 
To capture a beau for the dear daughter's sake. 
To bathe in the breakers next day, they decide. 
When Maud was to stray from her good mother's side, 

To sport in the waves and to join in the throng 
That bathed in the surf as the waves swept along 
Until she saw one that her fancy would suit. 
Whom she with a nod and a smile should salute. 



AND OTHER POEMS 277 



Then seawards should swim just a short distance out, 
Then sink 'neath the waves, while for help she should shout, 
Then, struggling, appear on the crest of the wave, 
And sink 'neath the surface with no one to save. 

Then quick to her rescue the one would make haste, 
For time was too precious for moments to waste; 
When brought to the shore she should swoon in his arm, 
Now rescued from drowning and safe from all harm. 

Next day when in bathing, as had been made out, 
Maud left her fond mother and floundered about 
Until she found one who was swimming near by, 
Who gave her a nod, while she winked with her eye. 

Like a duck on the water she swam out to sea 
On the receding swell, with a heart light and free, 
Then gave a loud shriek as she sank 'neath the wave, 
With no one quite near her to rescue and save. 

She rose to the surface and struggled in vain 
To buffet the waves, ere she sank down again. 
Half choked up with water and frantic with fear 
She came up again to her rescuer near. 

Who seized her and bore her triumphant to shore, 
The limp, half dead body to life to restore. 
And when she came to on that warm summer day, 
Then, true to agreement, she fainted away 

Into the strong arms of the gallant j'oung man 

Who saved her from drowning, for such was the plan. 

The swooning was genuine — surely no fake. 

As might be surmised, for the young gallant's sake. 

She played her part well — yes, entirely too well; 
For she almost drowned in the receding swell. 



278 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

And had it not beeen for the sturdy young man 
She might have been drowned through her mother's shrewd 
plan. 

Rich blessings were showered on the hero that day 
By crowds standing 'round as they led her away. 
Maud's mother joined in with a generous share 
Of thanks to the hero with courage so rare. 

Who risked his own life a frail woman to save, 
While many embraces the hero she gave; 
She asked for his card, and then made the request 
To call at her rooms on that eve as as her guest, 

Where she could more fully her feelings express 
For such noble courage — such great manliness. 
She played her part well, with such consummate skill 
That he deemed it proper her wish to fulfill. 

He walked in the snare she so deftly had laid 
And on that same evening the promised call made. 
The crafty old angler was lying in wait — 
Was fishing for him with her daughter for bait. 

He nibbled, he bit and was caught on the sly 
By bait which the damsel so deftly did ply; 
To marry they now are engaged, it is said. 
And all by the snare which the mother had laid. 

Boyertown May 5, 1902. 



AND OTHER POEMS 279 



Memorial Day 



[A poem suggested while viewing the Decoration Ceremonies, May 30, 1891.] 



WHEN Lincoln called for volunteers 
Then these obeyed their country's call, 
With pra}' ers and courageous cheers 

They left their home, their friends, their all. 

When danger threatened, and this soil 
Would be o'errun with deadly foes. 

From workshops and from scenes of toil 
They hastened to avert such woes. 

Where fierce the combat, fierce the strife, 
These braved the danger, one and all; 

While many a comrade lost his life, 
These men were destined not to fall. 

Spared to return, by unseen powers. 

From bursting shells and belching guns, 

'Tis well that they should now strew flowers 
Upon the graves of fallen ones. 

The sacred diity they fulfill 

Shall link the present with the past. 

While future ages surely will 
Revere the heroes to the last. 



28o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

While year by year Memorial Day 

In Christian spirit they observe, 
When from this sphere they're called away, 

Let others this great day preserve. 

The sod that bears their willing feet, 

While o'er these graves they strew the flowers, 

As yearly on this spot they meet 

'Neath scorching sun or drenching showers, 

Will hide their feeble bodies soon, 
When, ripe in age and old in years. 

The Lord will call each soldier home 
'Mid heaving hearts and welling tears. 

The starry flag that led the way 

The rebel forces to disarm, 
Shall lead them each Memorial Day, 

Borne by a soldier's sturdy arm. 

Around its folds they'll rally all, 

Now that the country is at peace. 
As oft they did at bugle call, 

Until each beating heart shall cease. 

As one by one their ranks grow less — 

When death shall claim their tottering feet. 

The blue shall be their burial dress. 

The stars and stripes their winding sheet. 

And when the last reveille shall sound 

To call the aged guard to rest. 
He'll hail the joyous, welcome sound, 

And join his comrades with the blest. 

— VOI^UNTKER. 



AND OTHER POEMS 281 



Midnight Reveries 



THE tall clock struck the midnight hour 
In doleful sounds, behind the door, 
While all around was calm and still. 
No sounds disturbed the grateful breeze 
That rustled through surrounding trees, 
While there, beside the window sill, 
I sat to breathe the balmy air. 

'Twas in the sultry month of June, 
While there, with doubting mind, alone 
I pondered o'er a patient's fate 
Whose wailings and whose stifled groans, 
Whose restlessness and feeble moans 
Gave evidence of sufferings great 
Upon that lonely midnight hour. 

Should my frail patient pass away 
What would the public think and say? 
Were thoughts that came upon me then. 
The feeble pulse, the failing breath 
And livid hue foreboded death ! 
Slight hope was left— she might again 
Revive when once the night had passed. 

Each ailment of the human frame 
Is worse by night — this doctors claim 
Is found to be the rule alway; 



282 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

And thus my patient, feeble now, 
Might with the dawn improvement show. 
With hope she might yet win the day 
In anxious mood I waited there. 

Long there in silence waited I 
And watched the minutes passing by 
Upon the dial plain in view; 
While to and fro in measured space 
The pendulum, with ease and grace, 
The seconds measured loud and true 
To fill the long and weary hours. 

Then, like a storm-cloud passing o'er, 
Her rhythmic breathing showed once more 
That she the danger point had passed; 
Then, with a mind from doubt relieved, 
Now that the victory was achieved. 
From me all foolish doubts were cast 
And brighter thoughts came to me then. 

Thoughts of my youth came crowding fast — 
Thoughts of the dim, the distant past; 
Thoughts of my childhood, when a boy. 
With Rover joining in ni)- play 
We rolled upon the new-mown hay, 
Or, for the men in our employ 
I carried water day by day. 

How swaths by swinging strokes were made; 

How I these lengthening swaths would spread. 

To keep up with the toiling men; 

How, when beneath some tree was spread 

A repast in the cooling shade. 

To re-invigorate again 

The hardy, sturdy sons of toil. 



AND OTHER POEMS 283 



When from the cool and flowing spring 
I to the rest would quickly bring 
Some ice-cold water for their drink; 
With empt}^ tin pail by my side 
How I with eager footsteps hied 
Down to the spring's uneven brink 
To dip the flowing water deep. 

How, when the bottle passed around, 
While they sat resting on the ground 
Where erst the table cloth was spread; 
How some, with long protracted draught 
The apple-jack or whisky quaffed 
To follow up the meal of bread 
And butter and some fresh-baked pie. 

How spear-shaped stubble oft w^ould pierce 

My shoeless feet in youthful )'ears, 

While gathering up the sheaves of wheat; 

In later years, how with the men 

I climbed the hills to cradle grain, 

Or with the flail the sheaves would beat 

To liberate the seeds from chaff". 

Or how the cooler evening breeze 
Would fan us in the cherry trees, 
Where we were bound to have our fill; 
Then to the covered spring close by 
Our willing footsteps soon would hie, 
Where we could quench our thirst at will 
Before retiring for the night. 

Of later j-ears, when bare-foot still, 
While plowing corn along the hill. 
Each sharp-edged stone impression made 
When, often in a tender spot 



284 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Upon some unseen stone I trod, 
Then followed, with a limping gait, 
The plough upon its hilly round. 

Or from the fields the horses brought 
At early morning, when we sought 
The spot where one had lately lain. 
Where, free from frost, with stubble rare, 
Our feet would warm while standing there, 
Before we started down the main, 
Bareback upon our homeward way. 

Of later years, when teaching school; 
Of "Tare and Tret" and "Double Rule," 
Of Grammar and of moods and tense; 
Of reading, spelling in the class. 
When brightest one up head would pass, 
While other ones with weaker sense, 
Would string the line of spellers out. 

Or when a student, later still, 

Down in the town of Zieglersville, 

With books and drugs my time was passed ; 

Still later, when in college days. 

In intricate and doubtful ways 

With other students I was classed, 

Attentive to the work on hand. 

Still later, when, with heart galore, 
My diploma home I proudly bore — 
A token of deserving faith; 
From Alma Mater mine, this shield 
Gave promise of a wider field 
Of usefulness in future days 
Among the frail unfortunate. 



AND OTHER POEMS 285 



Or later, of declining years, 

When waning strength and doubting fears 

Admonish me that soon must close 

A life devoted to the cause 

Of physic, with its astute laws, 

To seek a life of sweet repose 

Beyond the range of human ills. 

The past and present each one knows, 
But who can tell what pains and woes 
May be in store for each and all ? 
The future, like an unseen cloud, 
Will form for us a winding shroud 
To hide from earth each creature small — 
An atom in creation's role. 

What will the future bring to me ? 

A cup of sin and misery 

To fill up my declining years ? 

Or wall it be a beacon bright 

My journey heavenward to light 

While passing through this vale of tears 

In quest of an immortal crown ? 



July 30, 1893. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Ode to the American Eagle 



T saw thy fleeting shadow 
-■- As it floated quickly by; 
Then I knew that thou wert soaring 
Far above me in the sky. 

Then I knew that thou wert scanning, 
With thy keen, discerning eye, 

Every portion of the landscape 

Where some sleeping hare might lie. 

Then I saw thee swooping downward, 
Like an arrow through the air, 

On an unsuspecting rabbit — 
Of th)^ presence unaware. 

Then I saw thee slowly rising, 

Flapping wings with all thy might, 

With the body of thy victim, 
Which impeded rapid flight. 

When I saw thee slowly soaring, 
With a loud and piercing shriek, 

Giving notice of thy coming 

To thy young on mountain peak, 

Then I paused, and stood in wonder, 
Quite astonished at thj'' might; 

Thought how keen must be thy cunning; 
How unerring in thv flight. 



AND OTHER POEMS 287 



Then I thought of home and country, 

And the blessmgs we enjoy, 
That were won from proud old England 

And from those in her employ. 

Then I thought of the privations, 
And the victory that was won 

By our noble sires in battle, 
Led by General Washington. 

Thou wert perched upon our banners 
That were foremost in the fight. 

When we crushed out the rebellion 
In our battles for the right. 

Soar on thou mighty eagle, 

And continue in thy flight 
Down to Unhappy Cuba, 

And sustain her in her plight. 

Thou wert called the "Bird of Freedom" 
When young Liberty awoke — 

Assist the struggling Cubans 
To throw off the Spanish yoke. 

And when they've won their freedom 
From the Spanish Infant King, 

Surround her with thy minions 
And protect her with thy wing. 

And should she wish to join us 

In the galaxy of States, 
Accept the proposition 

And throw open wide the gates. 

Hawaii, too, is waiting, 

And is knocking at the door; 



288 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Don't keep her longer waiting — 
She was knocking once before. 

They're a httle off in color, 

But their hearts are tried and true; 

They have shown themselves fit subjects 
For the Red, the White and Blue. 

If Canada would join us 
In the sisterhood of States, 

And should she wish to aid us 
In our destinies and fates. 

Why let her come in with her beans 

And her productive farms; 
Throw open wide the border gates — 

Receive with open arms. 

If Mexico should wish to bring 

Her silver and her gold, 
Throw open wide the portals 

And admit her in the fold. 

Her Creoles and her half-breeds 
We can teach to toil and spin; 

They may become good citizens, 
So let them tumble in. 

The North, the South, the East, the West, 

In all this hemisphere, 
Should be one country, and one flag, 

Should have dominion here. 

They terrify and shake us, 

And they chill our bodies through 

With their cyclones and their blizzards — 
Let us have the countries, too. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



From Arctic's rockbound, icy coast, 
Where blizzards hatch and grow, 

Down through the galaxy of States 
To far-off Mexico; 

And from Newfoundland's eastern capes, 

Where briny waters lave. 
To where PacilSc's waters surge 

In one unbroken wave; 

From every home throughout the land, 
And from each mountain crag 

Ring out the shout for L,iberty ! 
One Country ! and one Flag ! 



Oh Where is the Spanish Fleet? 



OH where is now the Spanish fleet that gave us such concern 
About our seacoast cities which we feared the Dons might 
burn 
With shot and shell, or sink our ships upon the spacious main 
While we were playing hide and seek with the gallant tars of 
Spain ? 

They say the Spanish Admiral is bottled snug and tight 
In Santiago's harbor, where he shivers with affright. 
Perhaps he would surrender, then his crew might be paroled; 
But then he surely would be shot on Spanish soil to mould. 



290 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Such was a certain captain's fate who would not stand and fight 
Against the fleet of Dewej^ when he saw his sorry plight. 
'Twas not for lack of valor that his ship was given up 
To Dewey's gallant conquerors — he saw the ''jig was up." 

Why should he pop away and fight and have his seamen slain, 
Or go down to the bottom in a wooden tub of Spain ? 
Some call it valor to resist and stand up to be killed 
By some alert opponent in the arts of warfare skilled; 

But prudence is the better part of valor I should say, 
For he who timely runs may live to fight another day. 
Cervera and his bottled men all citizens might be 
In future under Uncle Sam, where all are counted free. 

Why should he not surrender as a prisoner of war. 
And then be kept by Uncle Sam until the war is o'er? 
And in the meantime try and be good, civilized, true men, 
And swear allegiance to U. S., renouncing haughty Spain. 

He'd save his hide and save his head and save his gallant crews, 
By giving up his bottled fleet— now wouldn't that be news? 
Such action soon would end the strife and bring us lasting peace— 
For Spain would surely sue for peace — yes, sue on bended knees. 

Our soldiers would come marching home and join the jubilee, 
And make the welkin ring with shouts of Cuba now set free; 
Our gallant tars on masts and spars would fling unto the breeze 
The Stars and Stripes, and Union Jack, as masters of the seas. 



AND OTHER POEMS 291 



Old Time Coasting 



^cTlOYS will be boys," has well been said, 
-'-' And when I now behold a sled 
Drawn by some urchin up a hill. 
It seems to me as though a chill 
Pervades my body o'er and o'er 
While I reflect on days of yore 
When I, an urchin full of joy, 
Joined in such sports — a reckless boy. 

No hill appeared too steep for me 

In coasting down to distant lea 

Upon an improvised affair 

At lightning speed, through piercing air; 

While often by the moon's pale light 

We coasted far into the night. 

Some playmates on a Sunday came 
To join us in some pleasant game, 
When we espied a worn-out sleigh 
That had for years been stowed away 
Behind our barn. Suggested one. 
Let's take this sled and have some fun; 
We'll drag it up on yonder hill. 
There are enough each part to fill; 
Then w^e will have a jolly ride 
Down on the hill's steep, icy side. 

The task to climb the icy slope. 
And drag the sled by knotted rope 
Until the highest point was gained. 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Was nothing to the fun obtained 
In coasting down at break-neck speed 
Upon our old and rusty steed, 
While hats and caps flew far behind 
As on we sped through rushing wind, 
O'er icy slope on sheeted snow 
To spacious meadow far below. 
Where open bars the pathway led 
To mark the course as on we sped 
Beyond the winding, frozen rill. 
Far down the lea toward the mill — 
A boisterous and happy band. 

The trip we then repeated o'er 
As we had often done before, 
Until at last we struck a snag — 
Some hidden rock or icy crag — 
As down with bated breath we sped 
Upon our old and well-worn sled; 
The rapid turn, the sudden jar. 
This scattered occupants afar 
With feet in air and shoulders down, 
While others landed on the crown, 
Or slided down on damaged ear 
The ringing sound of bells to hear; 
While others frantic efforts made 
To stop their progress down the grade, 
As rolling, tumbling, down they sped, 
'Mid fragments of the broken sled. 

In summing up the case we found 
One had received a ghastly wound; 
Another had sustained a sprain 
Which caused him such increasing pain 
That it was found in his distress 



AND OTHER POEMS 293 



He was unable to progress; 
Another had an injured arm 
Which for the time caused great alarm 
For fear a fracture might be found, 
Some sinews torn, or other wound. 

With damaged garments, aching limbs, 
This satisfied our bo3ash whims; 
Quite well we knew when reckoning came, 
While one was bruised, another lame, 
And Sunday garments ruined all; 
With rents and ruptures from our fall, 
The reprimand that we would get 
We surely would not soon forget. 

While father, with an angry frown, 

Examined well our battered crown, 

Our Ma with thread and needle round, 

Sewed well in place our brother's wound. 

Who in our mad and reckless ride 

Sustained a wound which, gaping wide, 

Exposed to view the ligaments 

Close to the knee, through ragged rents, 

Then with adhesive plaster drew 

The parts in place, concealed from view. 

Reluctantly their homeward way 
The rest then went without delay. 
Each wiser than he was before, 
While all resolved that nevermore 
Would they consent again to ride 
Down Furnace Hill's steep, icy side. 



March 16, 1893. 



294 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 




Old Tony's Last Ride 



I 



N Pottsgrove, in a former age, 

From youth to manhood, then a sage, 
In Mintzer's well-known family dwelt 
"Black Tony," whom I ne'er beheld, 

Descended from a dusky race, 
Old Tony could his lineage trace 
' Way back, as he himself expressed. 
When on the subject oft addressed. 

On horseback was his wish to ride, 
And great would be his native pride 
If he some gentle horse could mount 
And at his leisure ride around. 



One Summer's day, on mischief bent, 
To Bliem's large farm old Tony went, 
Where with "the boys" in active sport, 
Himself this darkey would disport. 



AND OTHER POEMS 295 



In yonder field old Tony spied 
Four frisky colts on acres wide; 
To capture one of these to ride 
Would be the old man's chief delight. 

This wish he to the boys made known, 
Which was approved, as will be shown; 
For soon a bridle was at hand 
To capture one of yonder band. 

One of the colts, with flowing mane, 
Was driven out into the lane, 
Where it was caught with sturdj^ hand 
And bridled by this roguish band. 

Upon its bare back Tony sprang. 
As loud their peels of laughter rang. 
While one of them, by dextrous hold, 
Removed the bridle from the colt. 

The frightened colt sped down the lane. 
With Tony clinging to the mane. 
His heels pressed tight against its flanks 
To keep astride in its wild pranks. 

This urg'd the frightened steed still more 
As bare upon its back it bore 
Its helpless rider, who with awe 
Was filled when he his danger saw. 

A pair of hounds took up the chase, 
And followed closely in the race; 
Their baying hastened on its flight 
As on it dashed with all its might. 

With ej^elids opened far and wide, 
His ej^eballs rolled from side to side, 



296 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



While with aflfright his dusky hue 
Was changed into a purplish blue. 

As madly on his course he sped, 
His way past Joseph Thomas led, 
Who, standing at his open door, 
A tumult heard, and great uproar. 

On looking up the road he saw 
A sight that filled his soul with awe; 
Old Tony came at break-neck speed 
Upon a wild and panting steed. 

Without a hat upon his head 
At frightful gate the rider sped ; 
While bearing down the dusty road. 
Old Joseph Thomas staring stood. 

Which way? which way? the farmer said 
As Tony passed the open gate; 
Can't tell ! can't tell ! Black Tony cried 
With mouth and eyes both open wide. 

A cloud of dust rose thick and fast, 
As Tony on the colt sped past; 
And when they disappeared from view, 
Can't tell ! can't tell ! came back anew. 

Hold on ! Stop thief ! some people cried. 
While other's mouths were gaping wide, 
As in amazement they espied 
Black Tony in his reckless ride. 

Each gate and door along the street, 
Brought eager folks to see the steed. 
As swiftly on its course it sped 
Without a bridle on its head. 



AND OTHER POEMS 297 



Old matrons grave and maidens fair 
Rushed out upon the road to stare; 
While farmers down the highway lead 
In quest of Tony, surely dead. 

Thus on they sped, both frightened sore, 
Until the colt could run no more; 
With Tony clinging to its back. 
The colt commenced its gait to slack. 

Old Tony now fresh courage took 
While from his soul his fear he shook, 
And, leaping from its back, he fled. 
Sore, frightened, half alive, half dead. 

The colt, now lightened of its load, 
Sped onward down the dusty road 
To Pottsgrove, where the same was caught. 
And trembling to its owner brought. 

Forever after Tony shied 
When he a frisky colt espied; 
Nor would he ever venture more 
To mount the colt he rode before. 

Now tell me not of Gilpin's ride, 
Who bridle had his horse to guide, 
While all the rest rode in a shay, 
To spend a pleasant holiday. 

Nor yet of Sheridan's great ride. 
Who had an escort by his side. 
When Winchester's fierce battle raged, 
Where rebel hordes our men engaged. 

Ten miles the booming guns he heard. 
Then sprang "to horse" and onward spurred 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



To Stem the furious rebel tide 
In deadly conflict, side by side. 

Great was his effort, great his gains, 
Which well repaid him for his pains; 
Which saved our army from defeat 
And forced the rebels to retreat. 

While Tony, in his reckless ride, 
Had not an escort by his side; 
Nor yet a rein wherewith to guide 
The panting steed, most dead with fright. 

Yet by his pluck he won the day. 

As on he sped o'er dusty way. 

With naught to lose and naught to gain. 

And naught to grasp but flowing mane. 



Boyertown, Oct. 9, 1891. 



Onkel Jeff's War Poetry 



WElvL rnay we stand and wonder, and may raise our shouts 
on high 
For the courage of a Dewey, or the valor of a Schley, 
Who have won our naval battles and have brought this glorious 

land 
Foremost among the nations by their firm, heroic stand. 

When the war with Spain was started every one was prone to say, 
We are without a navy, while the Dons may come this way 
To bombard our cities and destroy our ships at sea, 
And ruin our commerce and thus gain the victory. 



AND OTHER POEMS 299 



The call to arms was sounded, and from regions far away 
Came volunteers in legions, all eager for the fray. 
The cry of famished Cuba's sons touched each responsive heart, 
And caused our men of valor from loved ones to part. 

Some rrien were hurried forward for to mobilize in camp. 
With fife and drum and bugle to the soldiers' steady tramp; 
Like the tempests sweeping onward through the fields of waving 

grain 
Came the gallant sons of freemen from the mountain, hill and 

plain. 

Five hundred thousand freemen soon responded to the call 
For volunteers for Cuba, each eager, one and all, 
To free the famished Cubans from the despot's iron heel; 
Nor dread nor fear of sickness, nor of bullets or of steel. 

But while this mighty army, with its legions at command, 
Was mobilizing, quickly came from a distant land 
The astonishing news that Dewey, at the early dawn of day. 
Achieved a glorious victory o'er the Dons the first of May. 

A dozen Spanish warships thus were riddled and destroyed 
By Dewey's well trained gunners with the shot and shell employ 'd. 
Eight hundred Spanish seamen were mangled and were slain, 
As victims on the altar to avenge the sunken Maine. 

Our noble ships rode proudly forth on that eventful day. 
While the Spanish fieet was vanquished in broad Manila Bay, 
And from each masthead of our ships the stars and stripes shall 

wave, 
While the Spanish ships and seamen all soon found a watery grave. 

All sing the praise of Dewey, of his gunners and his men. 
His gunners' matchless bravery, their true, unerring aim; 



300 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Of Dewey standing on the bridge, directing well the fight, 
While shot and shell from Spanish guns passed shrieking in their 
flight. 

Then later still, on lightning's wing, the news was spread around 
That Cervera with the Spanish fleet a gallant victory found 
In Schley and his associates, who, with his noble ship, 
Had headed off the Admiral, who fain would give the slip. 

Not one escaped of all that fleet, the pride and boast of Spain, 
All victims fell to shot and shell to avenge the gallant Maine. 
Some sixteen hundred prisoners were rescued by our fleet. 
Eight hundred dead and mangled men were lying at their feet. 

Eight score had sought the bushes to escape the dreadful din. 
But Shafter and his heroes, in their mercy, took them in; 
These seamen were surrendered too when Santiago fell, 
And now are fed by Uncle Sam, who treats the vanquished well. 

All honor then to Dewey, to Schley, and Sampson too, 
To Shafter and his heroes, rough riders good and true; 
And let us not forget to praise the men behind the guns, 
Who with their matchless marksmanship have vanquished all the 
Dons. 

But let us not forget to praise the One who rules above; 
'Tis He who fights our battles — He rules in peace and love. 
He holds our matchless navy in the hollow of His hand, 
And turns the Spanish bullets to sustain this glorious land. 

Our men are but His vassals to perform His bidden will; 
He ruled through all the ages past— aye He is ruling still; 
Because the Spanish nation has transgressed His well-known law, 
He chastens and He humbles them and fills their soul with awe. 



AND OTHER POEMS 301 



To do His bidding He directs, on land and on the seas, 
These glorious United States. Let Europe keep her peace, 
For king nor kaiser, emperor, nor despot need we fear, 
For God directs our battles, and He is ever near. 



July 26, 1898. 



Only a Few Tears 



ONLY a few tears were shed for a friend. 
While they waited in silence and watched for the end; 
Overwhelmed with sorrow they long linger there, 
Bewailing and moaning — in abject despair, 
But when laid in the tomb then their grief disappears. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears by the maiden were shed, 
As she stood on the brink of the river's deep bed. 
Then plunged in its bosom and sank like a stone, 
Through the fiend who had left her, disgraced and alone; 
To her wounded nature grim death had no fears. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears by the father were shed 
When on the road homeward the erring he met; 
They were tears shed with joy o'er the lost that was found — 
O'er the prodigal son, on his homeward way bound. 
How quickly he knew him, though absent for years. 
Only a few tears ! 



302 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Only a few tears by the prodigal son, 
As he espies his dear father and then hastens on; 
Then falls on his neck and confesses his guilt, 
For his soul with remorse and contrition is filled 
Toward his aged parent now bowed down in years. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears by the fond mother shed. 
As she knelt by the side of her child's lowly bed, 
Whose body was racked with fever and pain — 
Now praying the Lord to restore it again. 
Her prayer was answered, dispelled are her fears. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears by the widow were shed, 
As she stood by the side of her husband now dead; 
Her heart was too full and her anguish too great 
To shed pent up tears in her woe-be-gone state. 
Her wailings and anguish are heard through all years. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears by the mother were shed, 
As she bent o'er her darling who soon would be dead; 
Her anguish is great — see her fall in despair. 
As she weeps for her boy who is suffering there ! 
But she dries up her tears when her Saviour appears. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears by the Saviour were shed, 
As He stood by the grave of Lazarus, then dead; 
But when at His call, from his deathly repose. 
From the grave where they laid him the sleeper arose, 
Then their wailing was ended, allayed were their fears. 
Only a few tears ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 303 



Only a few tears, but they were tears full of hope, 
That were shed on Calvary's rock-terraced slope, 
When the thrust of the spear pierced the Saviour's bare side; 
Then followed the Life Blood from the wound gaping wide. 
Which has cleansed all believers these hundreds of years. 
Only a few tears ! 

Only a few tears and we'll all be forgot, . 
For the memory of mortals endureth not; 
Scarce herbage can grow on the freshly made mound, 
And sweet roses blossom, before it is found 
Their mourning has ended, their grief disappears. 
Only a few tears ! 

Thus through all past ages, and ages unborn. 

The tears have been flowing; yes, people will mourn 

For the loss of a friend, who to them was so dear; 

Thus will they be weeping and mourning each year; 

But when summoned by death then their grief disappears. 

Only a few tears ! Yes, only a few tears ! 

Boyertown, Jan. 29, 1892. 



Only a Tramp 



I once met a tramp on a cold winter day, 
While making my rounds in my one-seated sleigh; 
Who struggled along, though his progress was slow. 
As he wended his way through the deep drifted snow. 

Few teams had been out on that blustering day, 
For the deep, drifted snow banks impeded their way; 



304 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The few that were out were compelled, for some cause, 
To risk life and limb to overcome Nature's laws. 

I halted my team when I came to the place 
Where he stuck in the snow in that unequal race. 
I accosted him thus : **My friend, will you ride? 
There's room for another in the sleigh by my side." 

Astonished, he stood still, but made no reply: 
He gave a blank stare, while a tear filled his eye; 
A smile lit his face, then uncovering his head. 
He made a low bow, and thus to me said ? 

"Ich bin jetzt gewandert schon viel lange Jahren, 
Doch hat mich noch niemand eingeladen zu fahren; 
Mein Anzug ist unrein und schrecklich zerrissen — 
Ich bin nur ein Tramp, das werden sie wohl wissen. ' ' 

Yes, only a tramp, but polite in his ways; 

I surmised at a glance that he'd seen better days. 

Again I invited him into my sleigh — 

With the deep snow before him he could not say nay. 

From Lenhart's Mill up, on the Gilbertsville road, 
I picked up this tramp with his (to him) precious load — 
A bundle of tatters one truly might say. 
For thus he appeared as he sat in the sleigh. 

I questioned him closely from whence he had come; 
His object in leaving his own native home — 
The spot of all others the dearest on earth — 
The land of his parents, the home of his birth. 

I saw that my questions sad memories awoke, 
For tears trickled down o'er his cheeks while I spoke; 
He then turned his head, brushed a tear from his eye, 
And to my fair questions he thus made reply ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 305 



"Ach gnaediger Herr ! Warura denn micli plageu 
Mit diesen Herz-trennenden, schmerzlichen Fragen? 
Es thut mir noch weh, obschon Jahren verflossen, 
Ich hab audi schon manche Thraenen vegossen. 

"Wann ich als d'ran denke an vergangene Zeit, 
Mit Frau und mit Kinder an meiner Seit', 
Wir reissten von Baden — liessen Heimath zurueck, 
Hier Heimath zu suchen sowohl wie auch Glueck. 

"In Rotterdam nahmen wir's Schiff auf der See 
Die Reise zu machen — es thut mir noch weh, 
Zu sehen das Schiff in den Flammen verzehren, 
Und all unser Kleider und Gut mit verheeren. 

"Nun alles ging wohl, doch dunkel die Nacht, 

Da Schliefen wir sanft in der zweiten Wacht 

Als Schreiet man 'Feuer! Das Schiff ist am brennen !' 

Wir sahen die Matrosen hin und her rennen. 

"Das Feuer zu loeschen, doch war's nicht zu thun; 
Da nahm ich meine Frau, nieine Tochter und Sohn, 
Und mit einander sprangen ins Wasser danieder; 
Jetzt sail ich von meiner Familie keins wieder. 

"Wir sanken all tief in das wasser hinein 
Ich konnte nicht retten — nun war ich allein; 
Ein Sparren kam su mir als schwimmend im Meer, 
Dies trug mich auf Wellen dann hin und dann her. 

"Drei Tage lang schwebte ich hin auf der Fluth 
Ohne etwas zu essen. Da sank mit mein Muth. 
Am vierten Tag sah ich ein Schiff auf dem Meer, 
Dann nahm ich mein Hemd und schlug's hin und her. 

"Ich wurde errettet, sie nahmen meine Hand, 
Und brachten niich in dies gesegnete Land. 



3o6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

"Was war nun zii tlinn? Ich hat hier kein Verwandten, 
Kein Freund hier zii sucheii, noch keine Bekannten. 

"Ich bettelte mein essen und schlief in den Scheunen, 
Und brachte die Zeit um mit beten und weinen. 
Dies hab ich gethan schon die viel lange Jahren, 
Bin immer gelaufen — nun einmal gefahren," 

Such was the plain story he gave unto me, 

A tale full of terror, as all can well see. 

To comfort and console him no friends could he find, 

Small wonder that grief had unbalanced his mind. 

Ah! the anguish of those who from dear ones must part; 
The mind steeped in sorrow, the grief-stricken heart; 
No friends to look up to; no one to console, 
To ease and to comfort the grief-stricken soul. 

'Twas only a tramp, but a heart true and tried 
Was taking a ride in the sleigh by my side; 
The bundle of rags and the shabby attire 
Warmed a heart and a soul filled with heavenly fire. 

'Tis not the fine raiment that people may wear, 
The ruby and gold, and the diamond's glare. 
Which none but the well-to-do ones can afford, 
That meet with most grace in the eyes of our Lord. 

The meek and the lowly, with hearts true and tried. 
For such had our Saviour once suffered and died; 
Though tattered the garments that cover the form, 
'Tis the faith of the Christian that keeps the heart warm. 

Boyertown, Jan. 12, 1894. 



AND OTHER POEMS 307 



Our Garret 



I would like to draw a picture 
As it was in days of old, 
When we slept upou the garret 

Through the winter bleak and cold. 

When the wild winds whistled fiercely- 
Through the chinks just overhead, 

With their breath of icy coldness 
While we snugly lay in bed. 

When the little cones of snowflakes 
Formed upon the garret floor 

Which came floating through leaky roof 
As the winds swept o'er and o'er. 

Or the patter of the rain drops 

When some storm cloud floated by, 

Drenching well the floor and bedding 
While we sleeping there would lie. 

Methinks I hear the thunder 

In the distant western sky; 
Now I see the lightning flashes 

As the storm is drawing nigh. 

Now more intense the darkness. 
While loud the thunders roll, 

While the vivid lightning flashes 
Shake the earth from pole to pole. 



3o8 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

I hear the scattered rain drops 
Fallmg hard upon the roof, 

And I hide my head in terror 
From harm to be aloof. 

The storm now bursts in fury- 
While loud the wild winds roar, 

And I hear the rain descending 
Through the chinks upon the floor. 

With a patter, patter, patter, 
Through many a rift and leak, 

These rob us of the comfort 
Which we vainly try to seek. 

But the storm soon passes over 
And we faintly hear the roar 

Of the thunder and the tempest 
We so plainly heard before. 

And we pass by slow gradation 
From a wakeful, timid thing, 

To that blissful state of comfort 
Which sound sleep alone can bring. 

Again I see that "saddle horse"* 
Close by the chimney there. 

Ready saddled and well bridled. 
Though devoid of skin and hair. 



*The saddle horse was a wooden rail about five feet long, supported on 
long legs. Over this the saddles and bridles were hung to keep them in 
shape and out of harm's way. It was a slender, shaky affair, and woe to 
him who tried to have a ride on it. 



AND OTHER POEMS 309 



To mount him and to ride him 
We had often tried in vain, 

And we found it was imprudent 
His unsteady back to gain. 

Once on a chair- back climbing 
I could lean my body o'er, 

But the saddle turned upon him, 
And this dumped me on the floor. 

A bruised and aching elbow 
And a lump upon my head, 

Taught me the horse was "active," 
Though apparently quite dead. 

There upon the kitchen garret 
Stood a barrel filled with snitz, 

Which we often had consulted 
To improve and shape our wits. 

Each succeeding visit to it 

Made a "deep impression" there, 
While our depredations on it 

We concealed with greatest care. 

Many were the secret visits 
To the garret that we made, 

To fill our spacious pockets 

With the goodies there displayed. 

A bag of whole dried apples — 
We called them "hutzlen" then, 

We knew were hidden somewhere 
In the garret — this seemed plain. 

Did we find them ? I should say so, 
For we hunted high and low, 



3IO ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

And at last we found them hidden 
In a barrel filled with tow. 

They too kept fast disappearing, 
By some means to ma unknown, 

And when she came to get them, 
L,o ! the empty bag was shown. 

The chestnuts too, and shellbarks, 
And walnuts here were stored, 

For use throughout the winter months 
When storms and tempests roared. 

There were the long-toothed hatchels, 
Stowed behind the large wool wheel, 

And spinning wheels a number 
Close behind the clicking reel. 

These were stored up there in summer. 
To be brought down in the fall. 

To spin the flax and linen — 
Ah ! methinks I see this all. 

And the mattress for the teamster, 
Filled with down of sycamore, 

Which the mice in their invasions 
Had strewn out upon the floor. 

And the feather beds suspended 

From the rafters on a line, 
Which were placed up there in summer 

Beneath the roof's incline. 

And the pots of apple-butter — 
I could count them by the score — 

Well tied with yarn and paper 
While the}^ stood upon the floor. 



AND OTHER POEMS 311 



There a teacher's desk, long leg-ged, 
Stood against the western wall, 

Well filled with books and sundries 
For us children, large and small. 

All these, like a panorama, 
Come before my vision now 

Just as they were before me 
In the days of long ago. 

These thoughts I fondly cherish 
And will keep them to the last, 

Looking back upon these relics 
As mementoes of the past. 



March 24, 1893. 



Our 5econd Childhood 



As fades the light of setting sun 
- When evening shadows gather round us, 
Enveloping with sable gloom 

Each object that is found about us, 
So fades the intellect of men 

When age comes stealing slowly o'er us 
Like mountain mists through which we scan 
Vague images of trees before us. 

We try to penetrate the cloud 

With straining eyes, and peer again 

To trace the outlines through the shroud 
Surrounding us, but try in vain; 



312 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

So with the mind when age appears 
To dim the eye and cloud the brain; 

We feel the weight of added years 
And wish that we were young again. 

Vague recollections come and go 

Like fleeting shadows o'er the land 
Where; undecided here below, 

In doubting, passive mood we stand. 
We see the cloud before the sun 

And note the shadows flitting by 
Like some dark spectre moving on 

To dim the light and catch the eye. 

'Tis then we pause to meditate 

And take a retrospective view; 
We try, in our forgetful state. 

Past recollections to renew; 
We try to lift the secret veil 

That hides the visions of the past. 
But in our efforts we must fail. 

For youth and vigor cannot last. 

Old age comes stealing on apace 

Before we recognize the truth; 
Each added milestone in the race 

Brings us still further from our youth; 
Time in its march beclouds the brain 

To hide the thoughts of former years; 
To childish waj^s we lapse again 

With childish whims and childish fears. 

June 4, 1903. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Our Spring House 



WHO would not wish to live again through happy days of 
yore ? 
Those pleasant days of childhood— could they return once more — 
When nights were passed in sleeeping, unconscious of the morrow, 
No aching limbs to banish sleep, no vain regrets, no sorrow. 

When doubts and fears, like passing clouds before the noonday 

sun, 
Were soon dispelled through pleasant scenes as time moved 

quickly on. 
From Memory's hidden store again an object comes to light, 
Where many of childhood's hours were spent with pleasure and 

delight. 




THE SPRING HOUSE.* 

Again I see our Spring House as it was in by-gone years, 
With its slanting roof of shingles and its outer flight of stairs; 
Again I see that slanting roof, with Memory's searching eye. 
With trays of quartered apples, and with cherries there to dry. 



* ( i) The Spring House proper, where things were kept cool and fresh. 
(2) The spring. (3) The wash house part. (4) The hidden smoke house. 
(5) The storage room above the spring house. 



314 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

With ladder placed against the eaves — a tramway safe and sure, 
Thus furnished access to the roof the cherries to secure; 
'Twas custom in those by-gone j^ears to dry these in the sun, 
Assisted by a swarm of flies the juice to feast upon. 

There many a stealthy trip was made up to that slanting roof 
Behind the Spring House, on the same, with many a mild reproof 
From mother, who thus often found her "snitz" would disappear. 
While to her practiced mind it seemed the cause was plain and 
clear. 

It has been said by sages old that ' 'stolen fruit tastes sweet, ' ' 
And this we found to be the case, while there with shoeless feet 
We clambered up and down upon the ladder placed with care 
Behind the Spring House to the roof — you see it standing there. 

Would you wish to see the inside of this subject of mj^ song? 
'Twill be a revelation to the old as well as j^oung. 
L,ong rows of milk pots standing in a trough — I see them all — 
In a stream of ice-cold water that was flowing through the wall. 

Long shelves were placed along the wall from one end to the other, 
Well filled with dainty dishes, and with cakes, and pies, and 

butter; 
There the good old-fashioned cheese cakes and the snitz and 

currant pie 
Stood well displayed, just high enough to tempt an urchin's eye. 

The remnants of a former meal laj^ on a spacious dish 
That stood in front upon the shelf — 'twas all a boy could wish 
To take his choice of things displayed with no one in the way. 
And then to quench his thirst with milk, on a sultry summer daj\ 

So cool and damp to shoeless feet, that well-paved spring-house 

floor! 
When coming from the summer heat within that guarded door; 



AND OTHER POEMS 315 



While mowing in the meadow when the hour of ten drew nigh, 
How a slice of bread and butter and a pot of milk we'd try ! 

Again I see that covered spring, walled in with brick and stone, 
Where many a time in childhood's years I quenched my thirst 

alone. 
A plank was placed along the wall where one might get a drink, 
While on the ledge a dipper lay close to the water's brink. 

While stooping on a summer daj^ to take a cooling sip, 
I struck the wall behind me and then took a headlong dip 
Down to the bottom of the spring, though much against my will, 
Which sent a chill all through my frame — methinks I feel it still. 

With many a gasp and splutter I struck out for that plank, 
Well cooled both out and inside with the water that I drank, 
And then a sudden wail went up as I crawled out again 
And hurried to my mother mj^ mishap to explain. 

'Tis wonderful how quick one learns to shun a dangerous thing ! 
It only took one dip for me to shun that crystal spring. 
A sister but a few years old there in that spring was drowned; 
We missed her for a moment, but too late to save when found. 

Then there the wash house, near the spring, will next attention 

claim; 
To locate near the spacious spring no doubt was father's aim. 
'Twas here the dirty work was done on many a tiresome day; 
Here clothes were washed each Monday morn — here soap was 

boiled with lye. 

Here was the place for butchering — where sausages were made; 
Here meat was cut with chopping knives where flagstones well 

were laid; 
Here applebutter, too, was boiled on spacious hearth inside; 
Here brightly burned the yule log with its ever-glowing light. 



3i6 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Here mirth rang out in merry glee on many a wintry day, 
While old Pete Maurer with his jokes was bound to have his say, 
While busy with his butchering — his daily winter's toil — 
To make and stuff the sausage, and the scrapple well to boil. 

Then overhead the smoke house, black with smoke and creosote, 
Where in that dark and gloomy place the winged bats abode; 
Here many a well carved ham was hung fit for a king to eat — 
Where many a slice was taken off for lack of other meat. 

No thief had ever ventured in that room so dark, obscure, 
For the place was well protected and the lock was safe and sure; 
I never had a hankering that smoke house to explore. 
For the place seemed uninviting behind that guarded door. 

The room above the spring house was a picture to behold. 
With its corn-cobs and etceteras, and implements of old, 
Where manj^ a secret trip was made some walnuts to obtain, 
O'er slanting roof above the spring through broken window pane. 

Thus childhood's years passed pleasantly in innocence and glee. 
While youth came rushing on apace with mirth and jollity; 
Then mature manhood first revealed the bald and hoary head. 
As age came stealing on our heels with slow and cautious tread. 

With keen edged blade old Father Time is waiting at the door 
To reap and glean the ripening fruit and gather it in store, 
As down life's journey we proceed with slow and faltering tread, 
To be reaped and gleaned and garnered in the city of the dead. 

June 2, 1894. 



AND OTHER POEMS 317 



Our Favorite 5hellbark Tree 



IN former years a mighty monarch stood 
Unyielding to the force of storm and flood, 
Where joined the hillside and the level plain 
In narrow valley on a large domain — 
A shellbark tree of ample girth and spread 
Where former generations, now all dead, 
Once rested from their toils in summer's heat 
Where hill and dale in pleasing contrast meet. 
But time has made great changes in the past 
And all the well-known landmarks cannot last 
Alway. All perishable things we see 
Must yield and bow at last to man's decree. 
A set of scientific men one day 
Laid out a route by accurate survey 
To build a trolley road to Eoyertown, 
This tree stood in their way and must come down. 
Such were the orders of the engineer. 
Then came the woodmen and the overseer, 
And soon the woodman's axe the silence broke 
With fierce attack by quick and steady stroke. 
There severed now the aged monarch lies 
Beside the trolley road, a sacrifice 
To human progress, which defies all things. 
And in its march oft solid comfort brings. 
A century's storms have tested oft each bough, 
Yet it withstood the tempests until now 
Because well rooted in the fruitful soil. 
Here oft the farmer rested from his toil 
In fervid heat, protected by its shade 



AND OTHER POEMS 319 



From spreading branches with thick leaves inlaid. 

The ploughman rested here his jaded team 

To seek protection from the burning gleam 

Of summer's sun, when on adjacent hill 

He was engaged the fertile soil to till. 

In summer here the mowers respite found 

From broiling sun, when from their irksome round 

Returning here they sought the cooling shade 

To quench their thirst and whet the ringing blade. 

Here on the level grassy sward was spread 

The linen cloth with cakes and pie and bread; 

The bottle here of seasoned applejack 

Caused many an old-time mower's lips to smack 

When it was passed around among the men. 

"Each round a dram" appeared the watchword then. 

The bounteous supply of nuts in Fall 

From bending boughs brought pleasure to us all, 

And every morning at the break of day 

We boys and girls would hasten on our way 

To gather nuts beneath the spacious tree 

When from the ripened gaping sheaths set free, 

Then poured them, rattling, on the garret floor, 

Along with chestnuts for our Winter's store. 

How changed is now the scene that meets the eye 
When passing up and down the old tree nigh ! 
The broken, outstretched limbs appear to cry 
For aid to lift it, on the passer-by. 
There where the hillside and the meadow meet 
It lies. The snow shall be its winding sheet, 
Near where the Popodickon gently flows 
Concealed beneath the ice and Winter's snows. 
No more shall children's feet the herbage tread 
To pick the nuts that there lay thickly spread; 
To scan each part the shellbarks there to find 



320 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Beneath the tree when shaken by the wind. 

Nor shall the reapers here in cooling shade 

Brief respite find to quaif the lemonade; 

Or eat at ease the cakes, the pie and bread 

That in the shade on linen cloth were spread . 

No more the cooling zephyrs softly play, 

When laden with the fragrance of the hay, 

On heated brow, to fan the waving hair 

Of toilers of the farm assembled there. 

The storms and floods shall test its strength no more, 

Though it had oft withstood their force before; 

For now the maul, the wedge, the saw and axe 

The woodman's patience and his powers tax; 

Yet even now its value we must know, 

For when upon the hearth the embers glow 

With fervent heat, its comfort then we feel 

And relish all the well-cooked noonday meal. 

Feb. I, 1902. 



Our New Office 



BY REQUEST OF THE EDITOR OF THE BOYERTOWN DEMOCRAT 



TO our patrons and neighbors this kind invitation 
Is extended to see us at our new location. 
Where we shall be happy to meet all our patrons — 
The young and the aged, the misses and matrons. 

The place where we were was too small for our purpose, 
And so we made use of our bountiful surplus, 



AND OTHER POEMS 321 



And rented this building from basement to garret; 
There's plenty of sunlight and nothing to mar it. 

The place where we now work is three times as roomy 
As the one we have left, which was small, dark and gloomy. 
With presses and cases our space was too crowded, 
Which, if you had noticed, you could not have doubted. 

These reasons compelled us to change our location, 
And I dare say we now have a much better station. 
Where we are prepared to do all kinds of jobbing 
At lowest cash rates, without jewing or robbing. 

We have lots of new type and have typos to set it, 
But if we run short we can easily get it; 
If our whistle gets dry we have something to wet it, 
And if short in money we still have some credit. 

In this season of house-cleaning, match-making, wooing. 
Bring your wives and your daughters to see what we're doing. 
You'll find us in our sanctum, surrounded by papers, 
While the "devil" and typos assist in oiu: labors. 

You can read all the news of your friends and your neighbors 
If you will drop in and subscribe for our papers. 
We ask you all kindly to call in and see us, 
And ask you to give all the news you can gi"e us. 

Our work in all branches must give satisfaction; 

If not, we'll allow you a liberal subtraction. 

We are prepared to do printing that does us great credit. 

As low as the lowest, "and don't you forget it." 

Oct. 20, 1S91. 



322 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



O! Where, O! Where May "Ikey" 
Have Gone ? 



A young and polished stranger 
Once came to Boyertown 
To make and peddle pictures, 

And lug them up and down, 
To show them to our people 

And explain each separate part 
Of picture frames and pictures, 
As handsome works of art. 

His neat address and actions, 

And free and easy style, 
With oily tongue a wagging, 

And prattling all the while 
About the art of painting, 

And crayon work beside, 
Soon brought him many orders, 

And caused him to decide 

To make his home here with us 

To work and push his trade, 
And by his push and actions 

He good impressions made 
On some of our good people, 

Who gave him work to do — 
To paint or crayon pictures 

And frame them nicely, too. 



AND OTHER POEMS 323 



All things moved on quite smoothly. 

That busy little Jew 
Amongst our better people 

Found lots of work to do. 
From photos he collected 

From people of this town 
Good pictures were soon copied — 

The cash for them planked down. 

But now this little stranger, 

To lug these pictures 'round 
Amongst our worthy people 

An irksome task soon found; 
He had an eye to business, 

But lacked the ready cash 
To fill a handsome store room 

With shoddy goods and trash. 

To start out into business 

And stock a clothing store 
Required lots of money — 

A thousand, if not more; 
And so this little Hebrew 

Approached a few good men, 
And in his blandest manner 

His project did explain. 

These listened to the story 

Of the curly-headed Jew, 
And promised to assist him 

In the thing he'd want to do. 
They went upon his paper 

For the money he required 
To buy a lot of clothing — 

Just what his heart desired. 



324 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

He got the ready money, 

To New York then did hie 
With pockets filled and bulging 

A stock of clothes to buy. 
How swiftly the time passes ! 

How fast the moments fly ! 
When one skips out with money 

And leaves us on the sly. 

That little Jew has left us; 

But what's the use to cry ? 
The money that went with him 

Will many a square meal buy; 
But those that backed his paper 

Will many cuss words say 
When in due time these people 

The notes will have to pay. 

This story points a moral 

To me as well as you : 
With sleek and glib-tongued strangers 

We should have naught to do; 
They are fishing for your money — 

That's what they travel for. 
Such smooth and oily strangers 

We always should abhor. 

Like leeches in a mud-pond 

They go from shore to shore, 
And hang on to their victims 

To fill themselv^es with gore; 
Their pockets bulge with papers 

From victims taken in. 
Which they with pride exhibit, 

Regarding it no sin 



AND OTHER POEMS 325 



To victimize the people, 

And bring on dire distress 
To those whom they are robbing 

B}^ means of their address. 
But people will be humbugged 

In this fair land of ours, 
And some are caught quite easy 

By their hypnotic powers. 



March 16, 1903. 



Petition Number Two 



I took a stroll the other day down Reading Avenue 
To Charley Mayer's Drug Store. Having nothing else to do 
I did a little shopping there, and after I came out 
I joined a group of loungers that were loafing thereabout, 
Discussing o'er the merits of a paper in the care 
Of Sam, who was the spokesman of the group assembled there. 

They talked of a petition that was being handed 'round 

To keep awa}^ the trolleys, but no signers could be found; 

For people want the trolley lines to run right up through town. 

And so the said petition met with many a savage frown 

By citizens of progress, who all favor trolley lines, 

And frown upon old fogies who are cutting monkey shines. 

First Richards had the paper, who was then to sign the same 
And hand it to Trethewey, who was then to add his name; 
And none of them would sign it, and they gave their reasons why 
That with such hard conditions none of them could well comply. 
Then Charley Keely took it and slept on it over night. 
Then handed it to Sam again. It didn't suit him quite. 



326 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The druggist wished to see it, but before Sam would comply 
He asked him: "Will you keep it? Promise first." He made 

reply — 
"No Sir ! I will not keep it, but will read it, if you please." 
Then Sara released the paper and he read it at his ease, 
Then handed it to Sam again and firmly shook his head; 
"That wasn't in his line to sign," the druggist blandl)^ said. 

Then Charley Kline came edging up and wished to see the same, 
But with its terms made known to him he would not sign his 

name. 
Then one proposed the Constable should take the paper 'round 
To see among the citizens if signers could be found; 
But Charley, with an ugly word, refused it then and there. 
And so the hateful thing again was left in Samuel's care. 

He feared it was a hoodoo, so he gave it back to Dick; 

To get rid of the paper he released it mighty quick. 

Dick lugged the paper to his home, examining the same 

When once he got inside the house, but couldn't find a name 

Upon it, for all seemed disposed to pass it gently by, 

As no one with its stringent terms could willingly comply. 

Thus was the paper handed 'round amongst the leading men, 

But all refused to sign it, and so back it came again; 

And now, to give the reason why the paper wouldn't go, 

I'll give you a few pointers, so that others, too, may know. 

It was a paper gotten up by some who are opposed 

To trolleys, for its very terms their object well disclosed. 

They say they want the trolley roads, but that they should comply 
With all the terms the paper asks. Now that's all in my eye. 
To pave the streets from curb to curb with asphalt or with brick, 
Or cover them with Belgian blocks, would seem a clever trick; 
And keep them clean besides all this, as well as in repair. 
By trolley lines laid in this town would drive them to despair. 



AND OTHER POEMS 327 



In that petition it is said our councilmen the}" pray 

Should grant no franchises at all, or give the right of way 

To lay the tracks down on our streets unless they'd build the line 

Five miles beyond the borough line — now w^ouldn't that be fine ? 

But it seems strange we should insist the township to invade 

By ordinances of this town to have the trolleys laid. 

Then why should they not be compelled to pay our taxes too ? 
And keep the streets well sprinkled, which some think they 

ought to do ? 
And put up an electric light in front of each abode, 
Just like they want at Gilbertsville a few miles down the road ? 
And give us all free passes if we want to take a ride. 
And pay all our expenses, with a little cash beside ? 

Now all this might be added to Petition Number Two 

To make it still more stringent what the trolley folks should do; 

No surer method could be found, if tracks they w^ant to lay 

Than ordinances such as this to frighten them away; 

It seems that in this land of ours, in every little town. 

There are a lot of cabbage heads to keep improvements down. 

Now I should think w^e had no right to say what they should do 
Beyond the borough limits wdth their trolleys — what think j'ou ? 
To be compelled to pave our streets from curb to curb all through 
This little town of Boyer is a thing they cannot do. 
Were this a built up city with a million folks, or two, 
To patronize the trolley roads, such ordinance might do. 

Whoever heard that trolley roads were bound to keep the street 
On which they have a track laid down well swept and clean and 

neat ? 
Or that the}^ were compelled to pay a certain sum each year 
To persons in authority to keep them in repair ? 
Or that they were compelled to light the town through -which 

they pass ? 
To think of such conditions takes a lot of cheek and brass. 



328 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Some, if they have a little spot on this fair world of ours, 
Would like to gobble up the whole, and thus enhance their 

powers. 
I always thought old ministers had far more brass and cheek 
Than any other class of men, but if we were to seek 
Their equal we could find them here right in this little town, 
Or down the road a little piece, to turn improvements down. 

Aug. 26, 1901. 



Popodlckon 



BLEST stream and vale of Colebrookdale, 
Where roses bloom and lilies pale, 
Thy magic power mine eyes have seen — 
Thy winding course and silver sheen. 

The children of the forest played 

Upon thy banks in leafy shade, 

Where willow tree and sycamore 

Their limbs entwined 'twixt shore and shore; 

Or else perchance some sunny spot 

Where bloomed the wild forget-me-not; 

Some verdant spot with grass o'ergrown, 

'Mongst trees where sunbeams brightly shone; 

Or romped thy shores in joyous glee, 

From civilization's duties free; 

Or waded on thy pebbly bed, 

As on thy cooling waters sped 

To mingle in thy native pride 

With Manatawny's ceaseless tide. 



AND OTHER POEMS 329 



Upon thy banks the Delaware, 

When hunting antelope or bear, 

Found rest in leafy everglade; 

Or 'neath the white oak's cooling shade. 

Where, weary from the chase he lay 

In calm repose some autumn day, 

When to his wigwam he returned, 

Where soon the embers brightly burned 

To roast the venison he brought, 

'Mid curling smoke on rude tripod. 

With knife of stone the buck was flayed 

By squaw, while round the children played 

Impatiently to feast upon 

Some freshly roasted venison. 

Methinks I see thy winding bed, 
Carved out when waters wildly sped, 
Upon their course down to the sea; 
When from the hillsides to the lea 
Came torrents gushing down the vale 
By storm cloud bursting in the gale. 
'Twas thus where some obstruction lay 
That turned thy course from day to day; 
That undermined the tortuous root 
Where once the stately elm stood, 
Then tumbled in thy stony bed. 
Where Vv'aters round it madly sped. 
'Twas thus thy tortuous bed was made 
While madly rushed, through everglade. 
Upon thy banks the foamy tide, 
O'erspreading landscape far and wide. 

Then on the hillsides close at hand 
The Delawares, that dusky band. 
Sought refuge from the raging flood. 



330 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

For now, where once their wigwams stood, 
Some crashing tree came sweeping wide 
And crushed them in the roaring tide. 

Then came the pale face to thy shores, 
Now serpentine; thy wooded course 
Was fringed by copse on every hand; 
While sj^camores, majestic, grand, 
Huge sentinels, thy course defied 
And hemmed thee in on every side; 
Whose mottled branches freely bore 
The smaller game from shore to shore. 
The hickory and Walnut stood 
Where densely grew the underwood. 

Then came the Red Men's last farewell, 
When through each dark and wooded dell 
Along thy shores, by steady stroke, 
The woodman's axe the silence broke; 
And as the timber crashing fell, 
The echoes brought the parting knell 
To Indians, who had left before 
To come to thee now nevermore. 

When cleared of trees and underbrush 
The catbird, robin, quail and thrush 
Sought shelter in the wooded hills, 
Where softly flowed the babbling rills 
Down to thy hampered, shelving shore 
Where once their nests and offspring bore. 

When cleared of brush by ceaseless toil, 
Then sprung to life, in virgin soil, 
Upon thy banks, the worthless cheat, 
The maize, the clover, rye and wheat. 



AND OTHER POEMS 331 



Where once the Indian's wigwam stood 
When onward came the raging flood. 
Now reared the pioneer, with skill, 
His strong log cabin near the hill; 
Here, on the spot his hands had cleared, 
He and his wife their children reared, 
Who soon o'erspread each hill and dale, 
And occupied each narrow vale. 

Then was thy course by hand of men 
Turned from thy bed to serv^e his plan; 
To call thee into needed power 
To grind the grain, to sift the flour; 
To fiery furnace furnish blast 
To melt the ore, the pig to cast; 
To turn the looms of woolen mill 
That stood on slopes of Furnace Hill; 
To turn the lathe by magic power, 
Unwearied with thy task each hour; 
Still laughing, bubbling on thy way — 
Still busy with thy task each day. 

Yet still thy ceaseless waters flow. 
Through noonday heat, in Summer's glow; 
Augmented by the melting snow 
That from each hill-top, high or low, 
In torrents to thy bosom fly. 
Then to the ocean swiftly hie. 

From Prospect Hill thy silver sheen 
In times gone by I oft had seen; 
Or played upon thy banks when young. 
Where dog-tooth violets had sprung 
From grassy bed along thy shore. 
Beneath the pale-limbed sycamore; 



332 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Or fished with rustic hook and Hue 
Where willow trees their limbs entwine; 
Or waded on with cautious tread 
While bathing in thy gravelly bed; 
Or crossed thy course on home-made sled 
When down the hill I swiftly sped, 
When wintry blasts thy course concealed 
'Neath frozen snow o'er bog and field. 

Roll on, thou winding rivulet ! 

Thy power I shall ne'er forget, 

When from yon hills through drenching shower 

Thy bosom swells within an hour, 

Then spreads along o'er meadows wide 

To sloping hills on either side. 

Roll on ! and still thy mission fill ; 

Give power to each needed mill; 

And for the verdure on thy banks 

Let mankind give thee grateful thanks. 

Aug. 20, 1894. 



Note. — Popodickon is the Indian name for the small stream commonly 
called "Iron Creek," "Iron Stone Creek" and "Furnace Creek," that has its 
source among the hills of Colebrookdale and Earl townships, and mingles with 
the waters of the Manatawny, near Glendale. Furnace Hill, opposite the 
village of Morysville, took its name from the charcoal furnace located on 
the site of Groff 's Mill prior to the Revolution. The Delaware Indians were 
in powerful possession of all the surrounding country when the woodman's 
axe and hunter's rifle first resounded through the wooded vales of Cole- 
brookdale. 



AND OTHER POEMS 333 



Prospect Hill 



ON Prospect Point of Furnace Hill 
I love to stand and linger still, 
While every year, in summer time, 
Its eastern slope I often climb, 

A bird's eye view of Boyertown 
From here I have as I look down; 
Each house and building comes out true 
As I this pleasant picture view. 

New Berlinville and Gilbertsville; 
Next Congo, and then Sassamansville, 
Then Layfield and New Hanover Square, 
And Fairville and Anise appear. 

Then Fagleysville on yonder rise 
In pleasing outlines meets your eyes; 
This charming landscape which I see 
A perfect picture seems to me. 

Here, high above our iron mines, 
The eye in sadness down inclines 
The idle works and stacks to view, 
As here they stand in close review. 

Here in desuetude they stand 
And well portray the fading hand 
Of Father Time's relentless sway 
While now the}' rust and pass away. 



334 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

These, once the pride of Boyertown, 
Will soon decay and tumble down; 
A sad requiem then we'll sing 
When no more treasures they will bring. 

Here, like grim sentinels, they stand 
Close to the hill — mute, solemn, grand; 
And o'er the dead their watch they keep 
While here they sleep their long, last sleep. 

Here at my feet the silent dead. 
With marble tombstones at their head, 
Will rest until the angel's horn 
Shall sound on Resurrection morn. 

Here friends in sadness oft have met 
When in the tomb they laid their dead 
To rest, until the morn shall break 
When all the silent dead shall wake. 

Fair Popodickon's narrow vale. 
With Pottsdam hills of Colebrookdale, 
All rise before me while I stand 
And gaze upon this beauteous land. 

I oft admire the rounded hills, 
While yet my soul with rapture thrills 
While gazing on their form once more, 
As oft I did in days of yore. 

Their spacious fields and fruitful soil 
Will yet requite the farmer's toil — 
The luscious fruit and bending grain 
Will many hungry lives sustain. 

In graceful curves from Morysville 
The railroad winds along this hill; 



AND OTHER POEMS 335 



Then passes on in straighter lines 
To Bechtelsville, and Barto's Mines. 

On Gabelsville, in course northwest, 
Your eager eyes will love to rest; 
Its spacious buildings, fruitful farms, 
Lend beauty to the valley's charms. 

The Popodickon, as it hies 
Through meadows in its course, supplies 
The motive power for mills to grind 
The farmer's grains of different kind. 

I love to stand upon the hills 
And gaze upon the brooks and rills 
Which, gushing from the mountain side, 
Flow seaward in their ceaseless tide. 

Fair Popodickon' s silver glow 
I love to view, as winding low 
Through fragrant meadows at my feet, 
The waters of the sea to meet. 

There in my youth I often went 
With rod and line my time to spend; 
With baited hook the fish to lure 
From their retreat beneath the shore. 

From this old spot so dear to me 
The Perkiomen hills to see. 
In bluish tints against the sky 
Where they in silent grandeur lie. 

There in my student days I went 
Some pleasant hours thereon to spend, 
When, wearied o'er my studies, I 
Beneath the cooling shade would lie. 



336 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Sometimes with books and rod I went 
To Perkiomen's graceful bend, 
Where, near the rocks close at my feet, 
The waters of the Swamp Creek meet. 

The pleasant town of Zieglersville 
Beyond the steep Scioto hill, 
From where I stand I plainly see. 
Though mau}'^ miles removed from me. 

In looking down yon narrow vale 
The iron works of Colebrookdale 
Beyond the trees I locate, where 
Thick smoke is rising in the air. 

Words cannot tell all I behold. 
As I here nature's book unfold. 
And scan this beauteous landscape o'er 
While I stand on this mount once more. 



Reminiscences of Youth 



OH days of childhood and of youth ! 
How happy we were then, 
With naught to fret and worry us, 

And naught to give us pain; 
No cares, nor burdens on our minds. 

No trials to endure; 
While all around was innocence 
And all our thoughts were pure. 



AND OTHER POEMS 337 



How we enjoyed the pleasant sport 

Of bathing in the pond, 
Of chasing squirrels to their lair, 

Or larger game to hunt. 

In playing games of hide and seek 

To father's barn we'd hie 
Where, hid among the hay and straw, 

The seeker we could spie; 
When once beyond our hiding place 

How deftly we would roll. 
And make a dash to reach the place 

Selected for the goal. 
Long lanes were dug beneath the straw 

To some secluded place, 
Where we could lie securely hid 

While others lost the race. 

When nutting season was at hand 

To distant woods we'd hie. 
With lofty pole and double bags, 

And clubs a good supply; 
While one with pole was beating boughs 

The rest would scatter round 
To seek the nuts among the leaves 

And pick them from the ground. 
Some flinging clubs high in the air 

'Gainst some projecting branch, 
Would send the shellbarks rattling as 

They fell from branch to branch. 

In playing games of shindy on 
The mill-pond close at hand, 

Or chasing rabbits o'er the fields 
In a tumultuous band, 



338 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The fleet of foot, by some mishap, 

Went sprawling on the ground. 
While others coming close behind 

Would clear him at a bound, 
And by the time his feet he gained 

And rubbed his aching side, 
The game, pursued by yelling crowd, 

Had vanished out of sight. 

In coasting then our turn we'd take 

From top of yonder hill, 
And swiftly gliding down its side 

To meadow by the mill. 
On fancy sleds we boys of yore 

Were never used to ride, 
With shapely form and painter's art 

Displayed on every side; 
Some roughened board with ends upturned, 

Well seasoned by the sun. 
On end of this a block of wood 

For seat to rest upon. 

In Summer time to field we'd go, 

With father in the lead 
With shouldered hoe and lighted pipe. 

The growing corn to weed. 
In Fall of year, with apples picked. 

To cider mill we'd go. 
Where pomace, pressed by massive beams, 

The cider fast will flow. 
The corn to husk, the wood to cut— 

Which always was the rule. 
To haul and pile for Winter's use, 

Before we went to school. 



AND OTHER POEMS 339 



Three months of schooling in each year, 

Was all we could obtain, 
For father, by return of Spring, 

Would need us home again; 
The grain to thresh by horses' tread, 

As they went round and round; 
Repair the fences which the storms 

Had leveled to the ground; 
The fields to plow — with oats to sow. 

The sod with corn to plant; 
The trees to prune, the stock to herd. 

Would next our time demand. 

The month of June, with lengthened days, 

Showed grass was fit to mow. 
So armed with scythes, and rakes, and forks. 

To meadows we would go. 
The men with scythes, with swinging stroke, 

Swaths down the meadow led; 
We boys with forks and rakes would then 

The fragant herbage spread. 
The seasoned hay we boys and girls 

Would all join in next day 
To rake, form into windrows, pile, 

And quickly cart away. 

The spacious fields of amber grain 

Would next our gaze attract, 
Where a score of women and of men 

The ripened grain attacked 
With sickles, plied by skillful hands 

The ripened grain to reap, 
While I would gather up the sheaves — 

A dozen to a heap, 



340 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Or carry water from the spring, 

And pass the bottle 'round, 
While others rested in the shade. 

All seated on the ground. 

Around the hearth in Winter time 

The family would meet, 
To take our fill of apples, with 

A glass of cider sweet. 
While clustered 'round our mother's knee 

We oftentimes would wait, 
To teach us say our evening prayers, 

Or stories to relate. 
How eager to retain each word 

That from her lips would fall ! 
How well our lessons she had taught — 

I still remember all ! 

The thrilling tale of Genevieve 

She often used to tell, 
Who lived on roots, and nuts, and herbs, 

And in a cave did dwell; 
Who in her exile with her boy 

By timid hind was fed, 
Which, chased by hounds through forest glen. 

To Genevieve had fled; 
To seek protection from the hounds 

The trembling creature tried, 
Poor Genevieve its fears divined 

And hastened to its side. 

Spied by the Count and retinue, 

The noble woman stood 
With arras clasped 'round the trembling form, 

To shield the frightened brute. 



AND OTHER POEMS 341 



"Call back the hounds !" the shout went forth, 

"Harm not that woman there ! 
That noble woman save from hounds, 

Nor harm that frightened deer ! 
Art thou of God ?" the Count addressed 

The woman in her fright. 
"If so, I pray throw off thy fear 

And hasten to my side," 

"I am of God — by man oppressed," 

Poor Genevieve replied. 
"Throw me thy mantle so that I 

My innocence may hide." 
The gallant Count, with purest thought. 

To her his mantle threw. 
Then forth she hastened from the cave 

And to his side she drew. 
The Count, struck by her form and grace, 

Though pale and wan and weak. 
To his own castle had her brought 

L,ife's comforts there to seek. 



Oh ! those were happy days of youth, 

Days to return no more, 
Until in better lands we'll meet 

On Canaan's happy shore. 
Where sin and sorrow, pain and woe 

Can never, never come; 
Where our Redeemer we shall meet 

In our eternal home; 
Where we shall join the angelic throng 

In singing songs of praise 
To God, the Father, Spirit, Son, 

Unto the end of days. 



342 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Rock and I 



T sat in my office one evening in June 
-^ To scan o'er the news of the day, 
The dross and the rubbish to sift and to prune 
From papers that on my desk lay. 

Thus passed I the evening in seeming content, 

Absorbed as it were in the news, 
Contentedly scanning the newspapers sent 

Myself to instruct and amuse. 

I laid down the papers, leaned back in my chair, 

To think over what I had read. 
The scenes of my childhood, while I pondered there, 

Came unbidden into my head. 

A feeling of drowsiness came o'er me then 

Alone while I sat in my chair. 
And while I was dozing I saw "Rock" again — 

The blind, old, white horse standing there. 

A hatless and barefooted boy, I once more 

Roamed over the fields and the hills 
Close by the old homestead, as often before 

I journeyed to play in the rills. 

Again dear old "Rock" I beheld in my pride 

With me on his bare back again. 
With feet scarcely reaching half w^ay down his side, 

While firmly I clutched his white mane. 



AND OTHER POEMS 343 



I rode him in springtime while harrowing corn, 

Or later while plowing the same; 
How welcome the sound of the long dinner horn 

While drowsily clutching the hame. 

When riding along on the side of the hill 

In seedtime to plough in the grain, 
I watched for the sound of the dinner horn still, 

While loud rolled the sounds o'er the plain. 

How welcome the sound of the horn to old "Rock" 
Was shown by the whinney and neigh 

When he heard the sounds at eleven o'clock 
From dinner horn furlongs away. 

How rapid his paces when homeward he hied 

With me on his harness-stained back 
To feast on the fodder that there was supplied, 

With lots of good hay in the rack ! 

Again to the mill with old "Rock" in the cart, 
With bags filled with corn and with rye, 

(The miller then taking a tithe for his part) 
We oft made the trip — "Rock" and I. 

If there was a frisky young colt to break in 

Old Rock was selected as guide; 
He never got rattled, though great was the din 

And racket they made by his side. 

If they would not pull he would force them along; 

When plunging, with force held them back; 
So true and so faithful, so fearless and strong. 

He forced them along in the track. 

They soon learned to know that to struggle was vain 
Against the old horse by their side, 



344 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then they became docile — to them it seemed plain 
To conquer 'twas useless they tried. 

The old saddle horse was the son of a sire 

To pull any load who would try, 
And if from some cause we got stuck in the mire, 

I tell you the gravel would fly. 

In summer at eve, when the heat was intense, 

To pasture I rode the old nag, 
To mount him I led him alongside the fence, 

Then leaped like a frog on his back. 

At daylight next morning to fetch them all home 

We started betimes on the way; 
Prepared for the day's work, to feed and to groom, 

Then started in work for the day. 

In digging potatoes, old Rock in the cart 
Would stand in the hot, scorching sun, 

Until it was loaded, then homeward we'd start, 
Thus keeping on till we were done. 

Then dumped in the shade of the large walnut tree, 

Close by the old homestead, again 
Large heaps of potatoes I plainly now see 

As part of the husbandman's gain. 

'Twas there they were sorted before they were stored 

In bins in the cellar close by, 
To keep for home use, or to sell from his hoard 

The farmer could others supply. 

When apples were gathered old Rock was there too. 

Hitched up in the cart as before, 
I acting as driver, he steady and true. 

Would cart them all home to the door. 



AND OTHER POEMS 345 



Thus passed we the time on the farm, Rock and I, 

Until he was growing quite old; 
His white coat was now full of spots like a fly — 

"Micke Schimmel" they call it, I'm told. 

He now was rheumatic, was stiff and quite sore, 

Unable when down more to rise 
Unless with assistance, now useful no more — 

The tanner claimed him as his prize. 

Thus died Rock, the saddle horse, ripe in old age; 

Three decades had passed o'er his head 
Ere old "Father time," the unmerciful sage, 

His scythe swung, and old Rock was dead. 

Long j^ears have passed over since old Rock is dead- 

Years full of events in one's life; 
Some fifty odd years have passed over my head 

Of struggles, of wars and of strife. 

Yet here I still linger, though lacking the strength 

Which age can no longer supply; 
I journey on homeward until I at length, 

Like Rock, will lie down and will die. 

June 9, 1901. 



346 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Rover and I 



WHO would not desire to live over again 
The days of his childhood once more, 
When free from all cares, from all sorrow and pain. 
To romp and to play evermore ? 

To lie down at night in the low trundle bed 
Where it stood on the old oaken floor, 

To crawl in betimes after prayers were said. 
Then soundly to sleep and to snore. 

To rise in the morning without ache or pain, 

Refreshed from an undisturbed sleep; 
To run o'er the dew-laden meadow again 

Where daisies and buttercups peep. 

Where honey bees flit in the cool morning hour, 

To drink in the honey so sweet; 
To gather the pollen from each blooming flower, 

Then hie away homeward so fleet. 

To race with old "Rover" down over the lea 
With a stick in his mouth for a guide; 

To lead and be guided while romping with me, 
As often we raced side by side. 

In evenings at twilight, in hay-making time, 

We romped at the close of the day 
Between the straight windrows on double quick time, 

Or rolled o'er the newly mown hay. 



AND OTHER POEMS 347 



Or leaped o'er the hay-cocks all scattered around 

On the meadow so level and smooth; 
Or tumbled and rolled as we raced 'round and 'round, 

In the days of our childhood and youth. 

A faithful companion was "Rover" to me, 

And always would join me in play, 
And always assisted to drive from the lea 

The kine at the close of the day. 

No high fangled pedigree Rover could claim, 

He was simply a "dog," that was all; 
No shepherd, no bull-dog, but what was the same, 

Was fully as stout and as tall. 

The much-despised "yellow dog" has a poor show 

With people of culture and taste; 
He's under a ban, as you very well know. 

But surely we should not make haste. 

To ostracise him on account of his breed, 

Nor yet for his color as well — 
To rob him of merit would only show greed, 

While his list of shortcomings would swell. 

Now Rover was simplj^ a big yellow dog — 

A mongrel quite robust and strong; 
And would I go hunting through woodland and bog, 

I always took Rover along. 

The chipmunks to chase on the crooked worm fence. 

Or follow the skunk to its lair, 
To fight with the muskrats, so eager, intense, 

Old Rover would take his full share. 

When I on my shoulder the wooden trap bore 
From the holes where the muskrats abode, 



348 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Where the muskrats were caught with the traps as of yore, 
Old Rover along with me strode. 

To tackle the "varmint" how eager was he ! 

How anxious to join in the fray 
When down o'er the meadow it started to flee, 

But did not get far on its way 

Ere he caught it securely between his strong jaws 

And shook it until it was dead, 
Then scratched at the trap for more game with his paws 

Ere I on the homeward way led. 

A battle-scarred veteran Rover was found; 

By the marks on his head one could see 
He received in fierce combat in many a round, 

Urged on and encouraged by me. 

The simple word "sic him" would start him to fight 

A dog that would grin and would growl. 
And when he got started you bet he would bite, 

And set his opponent to howl. 

Each dog that showed up on the highway or street 

Was tackled by him on the spot; 
So eager and ready his equal to meet 

He fought them although they would not. 

Then would it seem strange when the battle was on 

If I should join in with a stick. 
And prod his opponent, or else laj' it on, 

Or urge him along with a kick ? 

He would not desert me when danger was near. 

Nor would I leave him to his fate 
When fighting some mastiff, or bull dog, for fear 

Disfigured might be his big pate. 



AND OTHER POEMS 349 



As old age came on he became more discreet, 
And no more would venture to fight; 

His teeth became stubby, rheumatic his feet, 
Deaf, listless, and dim was his sight. 

He lay down quite helpless before it was night, 

At the close of a beautiful day; 
His dog days were over — he fought his last fight 

When his life was thus ebbing away. 



April 20, 1 901. 



Running for Office 



IF one would get an office now 
He must have lots of "tin," 
Must turn the grindstone for some years 
To help some others in. 

Must be a member of the "gang" 

And do some dirty work, 
And when requested to "chip in" 

Such duty must not shirk. 

There's something fascinating 

In our politics, they say. 
For when they get a taste of it 

They cannot keep away. 

Perhaps it's in the drinks they get 
When they are hustling round 

To hunt up all the voters 
In the rural districts found. 



350 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then when one gets the notion 

To become a candidate, 
He'll try to do his level best 

To get upon the slate. 

The candidate is trotted out 

To show up his fine points, 
Or to ventilate his record 

While he limbers up his joints. 

He drives around the country 
And will do the best he can 

To cry down his opponents, 

And will button-hole each man. 

He will coax them and will treat them 

To all that they can drink, 
To promise to support him, 

But these sometimes lie, I think. 

He will even line their pockets 

In a confidential way 
With the money that he hoarded 

Through his labors day by day. 

And if this is not sufficient, 

He will borrow from some friend 

The boodle that is needed 
To win out in the end. 

Now, some folks might call this bribing. 
Voters' pockets thus to line 

With money by the bushel 

Just to get the votes down fine. 

Of course the men will promise 
To support the candidate 



AND OTHER POEMS 351 



At the primary election, 

And to keep the secret straight. 

But then will come another man, 

Who wants that office, too; 
He gives the man a larger bribe 

To help to ptiU him through. 

Some folks might call this man a knave, 

To take another bribe, 
And drop the other candidate; 

But these are of one stripe. 

The one who offers you a bribe. 

And you accept the same. 
Shows both of you are rascals 

In this public office game. 

Its dollars now that win the race. 

Some voters look for pay — 
The candidate that spends the most 

Is sure to win the day. 

And though it takes a barrelful 

To make an office now. 
They're bound to make it up again 

When they get in— somehow. 

They may not make it honestly, 

Nor in a legal way, 
But neither was it honest to 

Hand out the voters' pay. 

Yes, politics is rotten 

From the surface to the core; 
No poor man now can ever get 

An office any more 



352 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Unless some friend steps in betimes 

To furnish him the "tin," 
Then works with all his might and main 

To buy the voters in. 

June II, 1904. 



vScore One for the Babies 



Up in the mountains dwells a man, John Velky is his name, 
Who from a foreign station to this fertile country came. 
All hail ! for Mrs. Velky the divine injunction heeds, 
And raises crops of babies which the country greatly needs. 
Her liege lord she presented with a pair of lusty boys 
Quite recently, brimful to fill the cup of earthly joys. 

There were fourteen little Velkys in that over-crowded home. 

And where to stow the other two there seemed to be no room; 

But sourceful Mrs. Velky hit upon an easy plan 

To stow away her babies, which a mother only can: 

Up in the lonely garret stood a cradle on the floor, 

In which the Velky babies had been rocked in days of yore. 

This soon was resurrected, and in this a bed was made — 

A sort of double entry — and in this the babes were laid 

And rocked and nursed and petted by the thrifty little wife. 

Of John, the babies' daddy, who was struggling hard in life 

To feed the other Velkys who were clamoring for bread. 

Which made him sort of frantic, and he wished that he were dead. 

The news of the arrival of the twins was spread around, 
When soon the anxious villagers in little groups were found, 
On tip-toe to congratulate the Velkys on the spot 



AND OTHER POEMS 353 



For having been so lucky, j-et to envy them their lot; 
But old man Velky sat alone and hung his head and cried, 
And to console him in this case the neighbors vainly tried. 

When asked why he was weeping, he, between his sobs, replied: 
"To feed and clothe my family I've struggled hard and tried, 
But now another pair is here to clothe, as well as feed — 
Just how to do this bothers me — these extra care will need. 
The little chaps are welcome, but a person of my age 
Will find it hard to furnish grub and leave a heritage." 

Then up spoke old Ma Grundy, who had called like all the rest: 
"I too had lots of children, for with twenty we were blest; 
They came like April showers, for we had six pair of twins, 
Which gave us lots of trouble and took piles of clothes and pins; 
But since the storm is over and they come along no more, 
We often love to turn back to those happy days of yore, 

When round the hearthstone they would crowd to lisp the eve- 
ning prayer, 
Before we tucked them up in bed to sleep so sweetly there; 
Or rest upon their mother's knee to lean against her breast, 
To calm their fears or soothe their pain where they could sweetly 

rest, 
Or when around the table to enjoy the frugal meal, 
And saw those healthy children eat, how happy we would feel !" 

"I guess I'll have to bear it," said he, as he ceased to cry, 
And with his red bandana wiped his tear-soaked eyelids dry; 
"These sixteen boys and girls can help to keep the wolf away 
When they are grown and we are old, at no far distant day; 
These little babes may truly be a blessing in disguise, 
Which I am free to own up were a great and sad surprise." 

May 2, 1903. 



354 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



She vSmelled a Rat 



Two eminent statesmen of world-wide renown, 
Both able and ready to talk others down 
On all pending questions, when up for debate, 
In framing the laws for the Nation or State, 
Were taking a stroll at the close of the day, 
On pleasure both bent while the time passed away. 
The one is called "Vest" and the other one "Pugh," 
Both honest and upright in all that they do. 

Like David and Jonathan of Biblical fame, 
Yet closer affection these statesmen could claim; 
The halls of Confederate Congress would ring 
With eloquent tributes these statesmen could bring 
To uphold the cause of the seceded states, 
And in their defence were invincible mates; 
But when our soldiers had vanquished that gang 
They feared they as traitors together might hang. 

Their stroll took them out along Capitol Hill, 

With Senator Harris to lounge at their will, 

Whose weakness was playing an intricate game 

That then was in vogue — penny-ante its name. 

At half- past eleven they started for home. 

While wending their way thro' the darkness and gloom 

They struck a saloon of the vigorous kind. 

Kept by a Teutonic of peaceable mind. 



AND OTHER POEMS 355 



Of various things in the eatable line 
Some Limburger cheese seemed so tempting and fine 
That Pugh, who had never such tasted before, 
Thought it was delicious, and asked for some more. 
In eloquent words its fine flavor he praised. 
While points in its elegant make-up he raised; 
The fragrant confection so worked on his mind 
That he soon decided to have of the kind 

A specimen home in the household of Pugh, 

Its merits to praise as a diet quite new; 

The same he decided while tarrying there 

Be placed from henceforth on the Pugh bill of fare. 

So pleased was the Dutchman with Pugh's ample praise 

Of his lyimburger cheese, and mild, beaming face, 

That he handed to him, in his efforts to please. 

An original package of lyimburger cheese. 

In the tail of his dress-coat, with tinfoil wrapped 'round, 

That cheese soon an ample receptacle found. 

The lunch being over, then Pugh, homeward bound. 

Arrived at the house over well beaten ground. 

His dress-coat was hung in a closet, well aired, 

His clothing was doffed and to bed he repaired, 

Forgetting the package of cheese stowed away 

In the tail of the coat he had worn on that day. 

Next morning his everyday suit he put on, 
Forgetting the cheese he so doted upon, 
Then went to the Senate, espousing the cause 
Of millions of people in framing their laws. 
When Mrs. Pugh opened her own chamber door 
She sniffed something wrong she had noticed before. 
The rest of the house were awakened to find 
The cause of the trouble. All were of one mind. 



356 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

The house had a foul-smelling odor upstairs — 
A dead rat was blamed for this state of affairs. 
Then Sambo was ordered some plumbers to bring, 
And steamfitters, too, to remove the foul thing. 
Each room was examined, each corner and nook, 
Yet no one had thought in the closet to look 
In a back room, where hung, on a hook in the wall, 
That coat with the cheese as the cause of it all. 

'Twas five o'clock, sharp, on a cold wintry da}^, 
When homeward the senator wended his way, 
Where soon after dusk he arrived, safe and sound, 
Where signs of confusion and havoc he found. 
The doors were all open, the windows were raised. 
Through which chilly zephyrs in fitful gusts raced; 
The feminine Pughs in the study he found 
All huddled together, with furs wrapped around. 

Throughout the whole house, in each room could be seen 
In overalls, men with their tools sharp and keen; 
lyarge holes in the wainscot were sawed here and there, 
While parts of the flooring were ripped up with care. 
"What does all this mean ?" shouted Pugh, rushing in. 
"Why all this commotion — this racket and din?" 
"We cannot remain in this house over night 
Unless it is found," through her furs she replied. 

"Unless what is found ? I would just like to know 

Who ordered these workmen to carry on so ?" 

"There's a dead rat somewhere and that rat must be 

found ! 
That's all there is of it," said Mrs., and frowned. 
Then quick as a flash it popped into his mind — 
The cause of the trouble he surely could find; 
That Limburger cheese in his coat — this he knew 
Was the cause of it all in the household of Pugh. 



AND OTHER POEMS 357 



Then Sambo was giv^en a dollar to lug 

That cheese far to lee, with commendable pluck; 

The foul odor vanished along with the cheese 

Which Sambo devoured on the way, at his ease. 

The damage and havoc the workmen had caused 

Were quickly repaired, with but little time lost, 

Then touched up with varnish and paint thro' and thro', 

And peace again reigned 'round the gables of Pugh. 



Juue 20, 1903. 



5hining Through the Darkness of the Night 



SHINING through the darkness of the night, 
Lights electric greet us everywhere, 
Shining with a lustre clear and bright, 
Lighting up resplendent every square — 

When ? 

Country boys can come in at their ease. 
Driving on our streets replete with light; 

Stay all night or leave whene'er they please; 
Spending money with us would seem right — 

When? 

Coming here to court our pretty girls, 
Byking in upon our splendid streets, 

Kissing them and playing with their curls. 
Munching peanuts, oranges and sweets — 

When ? 



358 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Watching our electric lights so bright, 
Shining on our streets with vivid glare; 

Courting in the parlor — shutters tight — 
Incandescents not turned on in there — 

When? 

Farmers with your daughters come right in, 
To our stores lit by electric lights; 

Cheapest goods and wares you'll find within; 
Come and buy, and see the splendid sights — 

When? 

Bring your wives, and bring along your boys; 

Show them through our well selected stock; 
Come to buy your clothes, j^our wares and toys; 

Buy yourself a suit, your wife a frock — 

When? 

Come in all ye people in your might. 

Come to see our lights so bright and fair. 

Shining through the darkness of the night 
On our streets with bright and vivid glare — 

When? 

When our borough daddies get the right 
From the people who must foot the bill. 

Then we'll say to them "Turn on the light," 
Turn it on and do it with a will — 

Then! 

Dec. 25, 1899. 



AND OTHER POEMS 359 



Signs and Seasons Discussed in a Village 

Store 



A RENDEZVOUS for country folks the village store was often 
-^^ found, 

Where men of wisdom and of lore (?) would congregate the 

whole year round ; 
Here in the winter evenings many the farmers came together 
And sat around on nail kegs to talk about the weather. 

Any subject on the catalogue that one might choose to mention — 
The crops, the times and politics would all receive attention; 
Some were inclined to listen and take in the startling truths (?) 
That were imparted by the old to the younger men and youths. 

'Twas thus one chill}' evening, full many years ago, 
While the wind without was drifting the lately fallen snow, 
A squad of jocund farmers around the warm stove sat 
While on a weighty subject they held a friendly chat. 

The subject, I remember, was about the different signs; 

The time to plant potatoes, to prune and trim the vines; 

The time to make the fences and to turn the sod for corn ; 

The time to do the planting, and the time when sheep were shorn. 

I listened with attention to the reasons they assigned 
Why some hard-working farmers were always far behind 
In raising fruits and cereals while others had full crops 
Of wheat, and corn, and hay, and oats, of peas, and beans, and 
hops. 



36o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

One farmer in particular I found was filled with lore, 
Who could explain the proper time to that gathering in the store 
To do each work upon the farm, from the early days of spring, 
All through the summer, and until the merry sleigh bells ring. 

I softly moved up closer and inclined my eager head 
To get some of his "hidden lore," and this is what he said : 
"The first thing in the spring to do before you turn the furrow — 
Put up your fences, and seek out where muskrats delve and 
burrow. 

' 'Examine well the calendar before you make your fence. 

And see the way the new moon stands — no man with common 

sense 
Would think of putting up a fence to last him many years, 
If put up when the moon declines and downward points his ears. 

"No matter how 3'ou build it then, on rock, with timber sound, 
It's bound to rot, and sure as fate, will sink into the ground; 
I've planted fences many a time and know just what I say; 
It's true and can be proven if you come around my way. 

"I have a worm fence on my farm, built twenty years ago, 
That's just as good as new to-day — 'tis true, I ought to know; 
The stones are all above the ground whereon the rails were laid. 
And every rail is just as sound as when the fence was made. 

"Now there is Neighbor Jones' fence, down in the meadow plot. 
That has been built just fifteen years, and j^et it's gone to rot; 
The stones whereon that fence was laid have sunken in the ground. 
While in that fence there's not a rail that's good, and strong, and 
sound. 

"And all because my neighbor Jones was bound to have his way. 
And built his fences when he would, no matter what I'd say; 



AND OTHER POEMS 361 



He's one of those "high learned" men who think they know a 

sight, 
But when it comes to making fence they're in a sorry plight. 

"Philosophy and civil law they've studied with great care, 
But when it comes to raising bread, why they are just nowhere. 
I tell you what, these college men are useless on a farm; 
P'or let them do just what they will, they're bound to do it harm. 

"Now If you would erect a fence of seasoned post and rail. 
Consult again your almanac, and choose then, without fail. 
The date when downward point the horns of the new moon in the 

sky; 
To set your posts upon that date you must yourself apply. 

"Thus set your posts quite deep and plumb, and fasten well with 

stone; 
It all depends on how they're set, and the nature of the moon; 
If planted when the lunar horns point upwards, then look out ! 
For then you may depend on it, the frost will lift them out." 

To this unwritten farmer lore I listened long and well. 

But why this lunar influence I surely could not tell; 

I am a little sceptical upon this point I know, 

And surely could not understand how this could be just. so. 

I have a notion of my own in matters of this kind — 
Just now these foolish notions will flit darkly through my mind; 
Were I to build a wooden fence of posts and rails throughout. 
Two feet six inches deep I'd dig and fill with stones about. 

I would not hunt the almanac to tell me when to build. 
But would employ a laborer who in such work is skilled, 
Then build my fence as best I could, unmindful of the signs 
Of what we call the Zodiac, nor how the moon inclines. 



362 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

A worm fence, if I would construct, I'd set on large sized stone. 
And build it well from bottom up, regardless of the moon. 
Suppose the horns were pointing west, would then the fence lean 

too? 
Or east, would then the posts all lean to kiss the sun-lit dew ? 

Then would the posts be bobbing down, and up, and east, and 

west; 
Then zigzag, slanting, upside down— would never be at rest; 
No urchin then would scale the fence the farmer to annoy; 
No danger to the melon patch from some mischievous boy. 

Oct. 4, 1893. 



Slander 



THE clouds which for a time obscure the sun 
And cast their fleeting shadows o'er us, 
Can hide his dazzling rays but for a while — 
He still lights up our ways before us. 

When wafted by the winds across his face 
He reappears with greater brightness, 

More dazzling to our eyes appear his rays 
To scatter the impending darkness. 

So does the tongue of slander cloud the name 

And dim the lustre of the purest. 
To injure both their character and fame 

It is of all vile means the surest. 



AND OTHER POEMS 363 



But when their innocence they clearly prove, 
Both by their conduct and transactions, 

More bright will be their fame, more pure the love 
Of those who censured their good actions. 



Oct. 3, 1891. 



vSt. Patrick McGlynn Investigating a 
Hornets' Nest 



A SON of Erin, fresh and green, 
St. Pat McGlynn by name, 
To seek his fortune and a home 
To this fair country came. 

At Reading on his way he stopped. 
Employment there to seek, 

Where he soon found a steady job 
At smithing by the week. 

On Sundays he was wont to stroll 

Around the country near, 
To feast his eyes on country sights 

And rural life so dear. 

In rambling through a grove one day 

He saw upon a tree, 
Suspended from a lower limb, 

An object rare to see. 



364 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

'Twas nothing but a hornets' nest 
That hung suspended there, 

But Pat McGlynn had never seen 
A thing so fine and rare. 

St. Patrick, in his innocence, 

May now to you relate 
His experience with the hornets' nest 

He stopped to investigate. 

"Oi went areound admirin' it 

From ivry point of view; 
An interestin' sight it wor — 

To me 'twas somethin' new. 

"I laid me hands upon me knees 
And peeped in from below, 

To git a betther view ov it, 
For the nest was hangin' low. 

"I saw wee objects flittin' out 
And crawl areound the nest; 

I took thim to be little burds 
Wid yellor stripes on breast. 

"I watched thim closely and obsarved 
How swift they wur ov wing, 

And while Oi stood besoide the nest 
Oi thought I heerd 'em sing. 

"Oi stuck me cane into the hole 
To starrt the burds to sing. 

But I didn't stop to listen long, 
Whin they commenced to sting. 

"Like paddles on a windmill, sor, 
Oi swung me arrms in air; 



AND OTHER POEMS 365 



And thin me hat flew off me head 
And the burds got in me hair. 

"They flew right straight into me eyes 
And crawled all over me head; 

The}' stung me iviry step they took, 
Until I was half dead. 

"I started off to run, but found 
The air was black wid burds; 

Oi had to stop to fight thim off, 
So I only ran be spurds. 

"They followed me fur two miles shure, 

And stung me iverywhare; 
They kept a singin' all the toime, 

While they crawled areound me hair. 

"Me eyes were banged, so wor me ears, 

Me head was all the same; 
And sure's I tell you, I was dead, 

For I'd forgot me name." 



Oct. 16, 1891. 



Note. — The above poem was suggested by an actual occurrence, the 
name of the innocent victim only being assumed. It occurred about twen- 
ty-five years ago, and the character is well known to many of our older 
readers. 



366 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Strubel, the Post-Kider 



You readers well may wonder why 
This subject I should choose; 
To write and sing his praises 
In this my humble muse. 

His unrequited services 

That he was pleased to give, 

Entitle him to both respect 
And honor while we live. 

If I should call him post-boy, then. 

The name would not agree 
In age to this quaint person, 

As you will plainly see. 



Note. — The writer distinctly remembers this quaint character, who car- 
ried the weekly mail (then the only one) between Reading and Boyertown. 
About the middle of the afternoon, on each Wednesday, Old Strubel on his 
old silver gray (or white) mare was seen approaching down the Reading road 
this side of Greshville, with his double mail bag well filled with mail mat- 
ter — principally Reading Adlers, the principal and probably the only Ger- 
man weekly paper published in Berks county then. Daily papers there were 
none. During the Mexican war he well recollects with what eagerness the 
advent of the "Post-Rider" was awaited to get the news from the "seat of 
war," probably a month or more after the occurrences took place. The Mexi- 
can war occurred during the administration of James K. Polk, from 1844 to 
to 1848, and as the telegraph was first brought into use on May 27, 1844, and 
then only between Washington and Baltimore, with no lines extending west- 
ward across the Continent, and no railroads either, people can well imagine 
that considerable time was required to get any information across the conti- 
nent from Mexico. O. J. 



AND OTHER POEMS 367 



He was a man past middle age, 
His locks were turning gray, 

As he appeared upon the road 
Astride his silver gray. 

Methinks I see their picture still. 

Reflected in my brain — 
Of Strubel and his old gray mare — 

I see them both again. 

Each Wednesday afternoon he came, 

About the hour of three, 
From Reading, on his old gray nag, 

The mail to carry, free. 

In summer's heat and winter's snow 

He always made his trip, 
And if his "spirits" got too low 

He sometimes took a "sip." 

Sometimes he swayed from side to side 

As slowly on he rode, 
And scarce could keep his nag astride, 

While jogging down the road. 

The reason why this should be so 
You well might like to know; 

I'll merely say he had on board 
Too much ' 'How come you so ?' ' 

With mail bag filled with Adlers 
For the staid old folks at home, 

In soaking rain, in hail and storm, 
Strubel was sure to come. 

The Reading Adler was the best 
And cheapest paper out; 



368 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

All other papers were "nix werth," 
And scarce were talked about. 

Each farmer took the Adler then 

To get the latest news 
About the war with Mexico; 

For none else had we use. 

No telegraphs we had 'as yet 
To spread the news around; 

The quickest way the news to get 
By post-men then was found. 

His mail bag was a double one, 

Across his saddle swung, 
Which left him room to sit upon, 

As in his seat he sprung. 

A double decker hat he wore — 

(A beaver I should say) — 
Whose cylinder was full of kinks, 

While the fur had gone astray. 

A switch he carried in his hand 

To goad along the gray, 
Which he kept swishing up and down 

As he journeyed on his way. 

As trusted servant on the road 

Old Strubel filled the bill, 
Through slush and mud, as on he rode, 

His mi&sion to fulfill. 

Long years Old Strubel and his gray 
Their weekly trips they made, 

By piercing heat, nor coldest day, 
Nor rain, nor snow dismayed. 



AND OTHER POEMS 369 



As time wore on improvements came, 
Then Strubel and his gray 

Receded from their beaten path, 
And then both passed away. 

We read of costly monuments 
Reared up for men less brave 

Than Strubel, who now calmly sleeps 
Unnoticed in his grave. 



Dec. 2, 1S91. 



Such is Death 



HUMAN life is full of sorrow. 
In our journey to the tomb; 
Brightest hopes may be to-morrow 
Shrouded in the deepest gloom. 

All our fond anticipations 

While old age comes stealing on, 
May by some sad visitations 

Blast the hopes we leaned upon. 

Looking forward with true pleasure 
To the comforts life can give; 

Wishing, hoping, in good measure, 
All such comforts to receive. 

We have struggled and have waited 
While we yet may call to-day, 

To enjoy, when age, belated, 
Cumbers this vile form of clay. 



370 ONKEL JEFF'S REMIiNISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Of the time when, old and weary, 
With a form with age bent low, 

Then the one we loved so dearly 
Could her sweet affection show. 

But our hopes have all been blasted 
By the cruel hand of Death; 

All our joy while life h.ad lasted 
Vanished with her dying breath. 

Weary watching at the bedside 

Of some dear and cherished friend, 

lyooking calmly on the ebbtide 
That we know portends the end, 

We have struggled with emotion 
To restrain our sorrowing tears, 

And with words and actions cheerful 
Tried to calm the dying fears. 

But when once life's tide is waning, 
And the end is drawing near. 

Then our grief is past restraining — 
Gushes then the silent tear. 

Calmly resting, sweetly sleeping, 
Thus she gained the other shore. 

While her friends around were weeping, 
A gasp, a sigh, and all was o'er ! 

Such is Death ! Now hushed forever 
That sweet voice we loved to hear, 

And those eyelids closed, shall never 
More reveal those eyes so dear. 

Gone ! The spirit has forsaken 
That frail form of plastic clay; 



AND OTHER POEMS 37 1 



God in His own time has taken 
From our home the light away, 

Gloomy in their silent grandeur 
Stand the maples bleak and bare, 

And the home now filled with sorrow 
Shows that Death has entered there. 

But a ray of light comes gleaming 

Through a rift in clouded sky, 
And the v/ords "have hope" comes streaming 

To us as it flitteth by. 

Looking forward then with pleasure 
To the time when we shall meet 

To receive that priceless treasure — 
Mercy, at the Saviour's feet. 

We shall meekly bear our sorrow 
In true faith and hope while here. 

For we know that on the morrow 
We shall meet our children there. 
Dec. lo, 1893. 



vSuch is Life 



A GERM or seed by chance was thrown 
Upon some fair and fertile spot 
Where once the fragrant rose had grown. 
The lily and forget-me-not. 

The morning dews that scattered round. 
Distilled from earth's ambrosial bowers 

By chance the little seedlet found 
And gave to it life-giving powers. 



372 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

A glinting sunbeam's brightest ray 
Came through a rift in yonder cloud — 

Sped from the radiant orb of day 
To scatter light and heat about. 

It found the seedlet nestling there 
Among the lilies of the vale, 

Where, by the warm and ambient air, 
Then sprang to life this atom frail. 

A rootlet small, a tiny sprout 

Now peeped above the mellow ground, 

While dewdrops scattered round about, 
This tiny rootlet substance found. 

As days and weeks passed by, the same 
By moisture fed and warmth of sun. 

Then thrived and grew, and soon became 
An object fair to look upon. 

A swelling bud then came to view, 

And then appeared the blooming flower, 

Each petal filled with sparkling dew 
To grace some fair and leafy bower. 

Thus blooms this fair and fragrant flower 
A thing of beaut}^ while it lasts. 

Then droops and dies within an hour 
When chilled by Winter's fiercest blasts. 

The colors fade, the petals droop 
And fall to mingle with the dust, 

While tempests raze the dying group 
To deck the earth's uneven crust. 

'Tis gone! forever to remain — 
Obliterated once for all. 



AND OTHER POEMS 373 



Nor sunny smiles, nor drenching rain, 
Can evermore its life recall. 

But life at best is but a dream — 

A fleeting phantom wafted by, 
As down we float life's troubled stream, 

And then at last lie down to die. 

'Tis thus through nature's well laid plan; 

Flowers bloom and fade, then droop and die; 
The objects that we love to scan 

Are destined prostrate soon to lie. 

It is thus with all things mortal: 
First they bloom, then pass away; 

But the soul of man immortal 
Lives and reigns to endless day. 

Thus the Lord, in His own season, 

Comes to gather in the wheat; 
Comes to glean, for some good reason, 

Loved ones we hope to meet 

In that land of love and glory 

Where the Saviour points the way; 

He has taught the bleeding story 
And took the sting of Death away. 

Life is but a weary burden, 

Some will perish on the way; 
Lift aside the drooping curtain, 

Take us. Lord ! oh, speed the day ! 

Thanksgiving Day, Nov. 30, 1893. 



574 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Talking in My vSleep 



IT is strange what queer notions will fit through the mind, 
Will haunt and disturb one's repose; 
The one who is subject to talk in his sleep 

Will often dark secrets expose, 
Or will in his slumbers foul murders reveal, 
Or long hidden treasures disclose. 

I had a strange dream just a few nights ago, 

A dream that in part must be true, 
For the things that I dreamed of have happened right here, 

Well known to both me and to you; 
In fact they have long been the talk of the town. 

So they cannot be claimed as untrue. 

What victuals I had for my supper that day 

I'm sure I can no more recall. 
But it must have been some indigestible stuflf. 

To raise such a rumpus and squall 
In my brain while so soundly I slumbered that night. 

Forgetful of self, friends and all. 

I dreamed that we once had a noted "High School" — 

The pride and the boast of the town, 
Where teacher and scholars, through untiring zeal, 

Gained credit and well-earned renown, 
Whose teacher was working by night and by day 

Each scholar with laurels to crown. 



AND OTHER POEMS 375 



I dreamed that the school with bright scholars was filled 

From town and from rural domain; 
All hither were drawn by the teacher's repute 

Sound knowledge and sense to obtain; 
To be well prepared in the oncoming years 

A livelihood thereby to gain. 

I dreamed that a spirit of envy arose 

With some who should better have known; 

Some thought he was teaching the scholars too much — 
All this by example was shown. 

For were they not further advanced than themselves? 
And in knowledge their parents outshone ? 

Then I dreamed they decided this thing must be stopped- 

A change must be made in the school; 
The scholars were getting "too smart" for their years, 

Too precocious and bright as a rule; 
If this thing were kept up much longer they thought 

Each one might in time be a fool. 

The change was accomplished, I dreamed in my sleep, 

But the man who had wielded the axe 
To lop off the teacher at one vicious stroke, 

Would leave without paying his tax, 
And I dreamed that the discipline once so exact 

Was becoming too loose and too lax. 

Then I dreamed that a cloud had come over the school — 
There was something not going so well; 

That the scholars were dropping out, one after one — 
To a dozen the number soon fell; 

Only seven in attendance I saw in ni}" dream — 
What the end would be no one could tell. 



376 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Then I dreamed the directors had closed up the school, 

To slim the attendance they said; 
With seven to ten in attendance each day, 

'T would cost them nine dollars a head 
To pay for the teacher to keep up the school; 

The thing was too costly, they said. 

Now this was a wise thing, I thought in my dream, 

The thing the directors should do; 
I'm sure that the parents would welcome the change — 

Miss Keppel could take them all through; 
Just sixty-five dollars a month would be saved — 

Now wouldn't this be wise ? What think you ? 

Our High School had vanished, I saw in my dream, 

The school that we boasted of yore; 
Like the mists of the mountain had vanished away 

With the breezes that wafted it o'er. 
I awoke from my slumbers a moment or two. 

Then lapsed into dreamland once more. 

I dreamed that a new congregation arose, 

A sect of the Lutheran type 
Had banded together to start a new church. 

For which the occasion was ripe; 
Already a list had been handed around 

To all those who wished to subscribe. 

There were deacons and elders, trustees and the like, 
With a preacher of world-wide renown. 

Who held weekly meetings in one of the halls 
That are found in this beautiful town; 

While some were opposing this long-threatened scheme. 
The project they could not turn down. 



AND OTHER POEMS 377 



The fame of the preacher was spread roundabout; 

Men flocked to the church by the score 
With their wives and their daughters and dear little ones; 

They entered the sanctified door 
To enjoy the good preaching and join in hymns 

That were sung in the churches of yore. 

• I awoke from my slumbers and found that my dream 

Had vanished like mist in the air, 
And while I regretted some could not be true, 

I knew that some substance was there 
That set me to dreaming while soundly I slept, 

Of which you may all be aware. 

I know it is wicked to dream of such things— 

Of things that may never be true, 
But if while you're sleeping they pop in your mind, 

What then are you going to do ? 
I know of no wa}^ to avoid and prevent 

What happens while sleeping, do you ? 

And if I should happen to talk in my sleep — 

Should wake up the powers that be, 
Should hint of the subjects that troubled my sleep, 

Why no one could well censure me 
For telling to others the things that I saw, 

For my senses had left me, you see. 

May 2, 1897. 



378 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



That Lawn of Ours 



WE have a small yard by the side of our house 
Which needed attention — so reasoned my spouse - 
To level where needed, 
With lawn grass then seeded. 
A hired man quickly was called in to aid 
With pick and with shovel, who good progress made. 

Then good soil was brought from a distance to fill 
Each little depression, with care and with skill 

Each little lump breaking, 

Then carefully raking 
We made a good job of that lawn, as we thought, 
For surely of patience and pains we lacked naught. 

A special was sent from the city to bring 

Some extra fine seed, which we thought a good thing, 

In paper with flowers 

And pictures of bowers — 
'Twas done up in boxes so neat and so nice, 
Which then I sowed over the lawn in a trice. 

I watched that 'ere lawn with a keen, longing eye, 
To see that seed sprouting whene'er I'd pass by; 

Upon the fence leaning, 

My searching eyes screening 
From the rays of the sun while I stood waiting there 
And scanning that side yard with diligent care. 



AND OTHER POEMS 379 



At length that whole lawn wore a mantle of green, 
Where wormwood, and chickweed and poke could be seen 

AH thriving and growing, 

Above the grass showing 
The broad leaves of mullein, of plantain and dock, 
With burdock, and catnip and carrots a stock. 

I then took a notion to root out those w^eeds. 
To keep them from blooming and ripening seeds. 

So armed with a bucket 

One morning I struck it, 
With sleeves rolled up high I went into the fray 
And made quite good progress, I thought, for the day. 

But while I was weeding I very soon found 

The task was no snap thus to stoop to the ground, 

Now tugging and pulling, 

The many weeds culling 
From the tender lawn grass that appealing stood there. 
Of space then demanding to have its full share. 

Thus putting my spare time all into that plot 
I worked like a beaver to weed out that lot, 

Then briefly retiring, 

While freely perspiring, 
I hunted some spot where less ferv^ent the heat — 
The same act when needed I oft w^ould repeat. 

I got sore in my back and was stiff in my legs. 
So stiff that I scarcely could walk on m}^ pegs, 

Then stood up a minute, 

Then again would pitch in it 
To pick out the weeds that I saw everywhere 
Overtopping the lawn grass that sparsel}' grew there. 



38o ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Here plantain was scattered around in one spot, 

There wormwood and chick weed, and poke and what not ? 

All thriving and growing, 

Their saucy heads showing 
Above the lawn grass that was smothering there. 
To pick out all these took great patience and care. 

The pink-stemmed young poke weed grew scattered around; 
The deep-rooted burdock there too could be found, 

Its broad leaves expanding. 

More room still demanding 
To spread and to grow like such weeds only know 
How to crowd out all others and give them no show. 

There dock and there catnip and dandelion grew, 
While low trailing chickweed was scattered all through 

The rest in profusion, 

And making intrusion 
Where spindle-leaved lawn grass was trying to peep 
Up through the rank growth its place trying to keep. 

Wild carrots were growing, tall, straight as a die, 
With woolly-leaved mullein and chicory nigh — 

The grass each o'ertopping, 

Nor waiting, nor stopping 
To give the lawn grass any kind of a show 
That in its cramped quarters made efforts to grow. 

At last I got through with the weeds I found there — 
Had pulled them all out by the roots with great care ; 
I raked these and turned them, 
Then piled them and burned them. 
And now since I'm through I'm determined to sow 
So thickly with grass seeds that weeds cannot grow. 

July 7, 1902. 



AND OTHER POEMS 381 



Comments by Dr. F. R. Brunner under the Name of 
"Disappointed Teaclier" 

We sympathize with Onkel Jeff; 
Feel sorty for his great distress 

Which overcame his farming. 
But then, 'tis strange that men forget 
That the best soil oft weeds beget — 

Results not alwa3'S charming. 

Then too, the admonition, cheap — 
"What ye shall sow that ye shall reap," 

Should always be remembered. 
Your Phytolac and Verbascum, 
And that grand Eupatorium, 

Must never be surrendered. 

You and your spouse may need some tea 
To soothe your aches and pains some day 

That lawn grass cannot furnish; 
Your Reumex, catnip, Lappa, Thyme, 
Might then come nicely into line, 

Which you have tried to banish. 

Yes, Onkel, you do surely know 
The uses of all weeds that grow 

In your small plot, so dainty; 
To root them out, the sweat and pain 
You suffered was but little gain 

For a man more than sixty. 

But such is life; we tug and pull 
At things obnoxious, things useful, 
And seem to do it gladly; 



382 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

But oh ! the scamp who sold you weeds 
Among your lawn seeds surely needs 
A raking up most badly. 

Not being killed by heat and work, 
Proves you to be a thorough Turk, 

And in your patience Job-like; 
So pull and tug until you're through, 
And keep the weeds from troubling you; 

Your plot will seem more home-like. 

But to destroy those precious plants 
That serve as drugs in doctors' hands, 

It seems almost redic'lus. 
A bot'ny plot should be your pride, 
So cosy at your mansion side, 

And not a thing superfl'us. 



How Onkel Jeff Appreciates Disappointed Teacher's 
Sympatliy 

You sympathize wdth me, you say, 
Then please accept my thanks, I pray, 

For kind appreciation. 
That this may be quite genuine 
I'll make a test; if you decline, 

It's only affectation. 

To gauge the sympathy you show, 
To measure it how should I know 

Unless you clearly mention. 
Say, is it liquid, soft or hard ? 
Or is it dealt out by the yard ? 

And does it bear extension ? 



AND OTHER POEMS 383 



I soon will have to weed again, 
To save me from the aches and pain 

I'll send you word by letter, 
That you shall come to help to weed, 
Then only half the time we'll need 

If we'll both pull together. 

How would you like to work some day 
In clearing all the weeds away — 

To stoop or bend up double ? 
To pick the weeds among the grass 
And bear the jeers of all that pass. 

With no pay for your trouble ? 

The Phytolacca and the Thyme, 
And Eupatorium take time 

To do the work discreetly; 
Verbascum, Rumex, catnip, too, 
When scattered 'mongst the grass all through, 

To root them out completely. 

Such weeds were used long time ago 
When people did no better know 

To stop the cramps or colic. 
With shades drawn down and closed each door, 
Fond parents had to walk the floor — 

A sort of shirt-tail frolic. 

Those weeds and herbs are obsolete — 
A doctor's outfit is complete 

Without those vile infusions; 
Some may be handy in their way 
To drive the ants and bugs away 

Who sometimes make intrusions. 



384 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Now in a scientific way 

Those drugs are put up every day — 

They need from us no praising; 
So let it now be understood 
That I will pull out every root — 

lyCt others do the raising. 

When we were babies, you and I, 
No doubt at night we'd often cry 

When pains and aches did rack us. 
For belly-ache such herbs were used, 
And often were no doubt misused 

When ear-ache did attack us. 

Our mothers used to dry with care 
And stowed them in the garret where 

The sun could not destroy them. 
Then should the baby fret and cry, 
Up to the garret she would hie, 

And for all pain employ them. 

No doubt when babies, I and you 

Were drenched with catnip through and through 

In summer night's caloric; 
Now mothers know a thing or two 
When baby's teeth are cutting through. 

And stuff with paregoric. 

There are no prospects now in sight 
To be compelled some sultry night 

To tote around a baby, 
So what's the use of drying weeds 
When there should be no crying needs 

To soothe and lull the baby. 



AND OTHER POEMS 385 



That city chap if I should meet 
Upon some thoroughfare or street 

Will think a cyclone struck him; 
Or should I meet him by the sea, 
Although the waves should cover me, 

I'd drag him in and duck him. 

If I should meet him on the road 
I'd just pull off my linen coat 

And give him a sound beating; 
I'd pitch in with my sleeves rolled up 
And like a Jeffries "do him up," 

Because he had been cheating. 

Now that shows pluck you well may say, 
Yet if that chap should come this way 

I'll go through him like sixty; 
Although of part of strength bereft 
There is abundant grit still left 

In me now long past sixty. 

If he should step into my yard 
At any time, with due regard 

I'll show him how I love him; 
To walk against that fist of mine 
Will cause the moon and stars to shine 

At mid-day right above him. 



July 19, 1902. 



386 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



That Old Tin Box of Mine 



WHO has not seen that old tin box of mine ? 
My close companion well nigh two score 5'ears, 
This I have lugged along through rain or shine — 
The truth of which in that old box appears. 

Some carry costly leather-covered chests, 
With nickel-plated bindings all around, 

Wherein, in separate compartments, nests 
Of tiny bottles in each space are found. 

A handsome thing to look at, I admit, 

If lugged with ease from place to place in town, 

But when it conies to practice, not a bit 
More handy than the old tin box I own. 

When I hung out my shingle years ago 

At Gilbertsville, one pleasant morn in May, 

I carried saddle bags wherein to stow 

Things I might need to see the sick each da}'. 

But when I went to war I stowed away 
Those saddle bags to let them have a rest. 

Nor have I ever used them to this day, 
Because I like my old tin box the best. 

There every bottle in its proper place 
Comes readily to hand in darkest night, 

When quickly its location I can trace 
Without the aid of artificial light. 



AND OTHER POEMS 387 



This could be done with others, it is true, 

In handsome chests with nickle lock and key; 

But then why should I change to something new ? 
No reason in the world that I can see. 

Unless it be to keep up with the times, 
Or else, perhaps to show a little style; 

In my perambulations I sometimes 

Gaze on this tin box with a secret smile. 

To see the dented corners, battered lid, 
The stout tin bottom, and the paper key, 

Then note the fact that in that box lie hid 
The means that brought success in life to me. 

The taunts and jests about that box of mine 
By customers whose friendship I revere, 

But served to bind still closer, and intwine 
That old tin box to me from year to year. 

I've lugged it in the winter's frigid air. 

And sweltered in the summer's scorching sun 

In toting it in weather foul or fair, 

By day or night when I was called upon. 

Why should I now discard this box of mine, 
That serv^ed my purpose for so many years, 

And substitute a case more neat and fine ? 
A doubtful move to me such plan appears. 

It caused no corner in the price of tin 
When to my order that tin box was made, 

Nor when the well known remedies within 
Were stowed away did drugs decline a shade ! 



ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



Now when life's summit by me has been passed, 
While round this box so many memories twine, 

As long as needed, or while life shall last, 
I'm bound to stick to that old box of mine. 



June 9, 1903. 



That Prize Fight 



HAVE you heard of the fight that our sports would arrange, 
To be fought with bare knuckles at very close range, 
'Twixt two of our heavy-weight champions (would be). 
Which all of our people are anxious to see ? 
The fight is to come off in Sol. Moyer's stable- 
To pummel each other as long as they're able. 

The tickets at Sol. Moyer's house can be had 
At a dollar apiece — now don't forget that. 
The fight is to come off at some future time — 
Some clear, bracing evening, after shop-closing time; 
A space will be roped off twenty feet in the clear, 
In order that none can at all interfere. 

Jake Wallach already three tickets has bought; 
He seems very anxious the fight should be fought. 
Report says John Leaver a trainer will be 
For one of the men in this dreadful melee; 
To feed him on garlic and onions and cheese, 
To lessen his blubber and fat by degrees. 

The way the thing happened is something like this : 
You know at conventions the rule always is 
To nominate those whom you wish to support, 



AND OTHER POEMS 389 



If not in real earnest, then only in sport. 

So in the convention the name was called out 

Of a certain big person who is always about, 

And manages things when the convention's in session, 

And in forming the ticket freely gives his expression. 

This raised such a hubbub and such a big squall 
That part of the ceiling was ready to fall. 
The thing from the start was intended for sport — 
That's just what they told me, and such is the report; 
But he seemed to think it in earnest intended. 
And so in high language he quickly resented. 

Great cuss words were rolled out in such big volumes, 
That the room was soon filled with the sulphurous fumes 
To end the whole matter the chairman brought down 
His gavel on table, and made them sit down. 

Have you heard who the men are who will thus engage 
To smash each other's noses in their violent rage ? 
They say they are two of our big men in town; 
The one deals in butter and resides in uptown. 
The other lives down town and sells lager beer — 
He keeps a good house and is full of good cheer. 

When once the mill comes off, although not a sport, 
I'll surely be there just to get the report. 
So I'll bet on fresh butter— a big chunk, if you please; 
Who'll bet on fresh oysters, lager, pretzels and cheese? 

LATER. 

It's just now reported the challenge is rejected, 
Because one of the men to the diet objected; 
All those who hold tickets to see the afiair 
Can get them refunded in fresh lager beer. 



390 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



The Arrowhead 



I FOUND an arrow on a sandy shore 
Where, in my youth, I oft had strayed before 
To lure the fish with rustic hne and hook 
Where bending willows lined the meadow brook. 

There, when a barefoot boy in childhood's days, 
I often wandered 'mongst those water ways 
Where slanting sunbeams shone with dappled gleam 
Upon the bosom of the rippled stream. 

And as I wandered up and down the sandy shore 
The scenes of childhood came to me once more. 
Again I waded in the pebbly stream 
Where branching willows broke the sun's bright gleam. 

Again with hands and arms to shoulders bare 
I delved and probed each cove and nook with care 
To catch some wary fish secreted there, 
Or lure the victim to some hidden snare. 

Here in the cooling waters of the brook 
At eventide, in some secluded nook, 
I often bathed where shallow waters played 
Among the pebbles from the channel frayed. 

Where it lay hidden in the drifted sand 
I found it in its bed upon the strand; 
Its hue to me its presence there revealed 
Where it had lain from other's gaze concealed. 

I plucked it from its bed of sand and clay 
Where unobserved for years the treasure lay, 



AND OTHER POEMS 391 



And washed it in the streamlet close at hand, 
To free it of the claj'^ and gritty sand. 

I scrutinized this gem of Indian art, 

So perfect in its form in every part, 

And pondered long, with deep, inquiring mind, 

The manner of its workmanship to find. 

Of jasper rock this perfect arrowhead 
By skillful hands, with patient care was made; 
With serrate edges from the point to heel. 
In form most perfect and as true as steel. 

A chiseled groove around the base I found 
Where rawhide thongs around it once were wound 
To fasten well the shaft around the head 
Before the arrow on its mission sped. 

What tools were used to chip, with dextrous hand. 
This arrow that I found upon the strand ? 
Was wooden mallet used and pointed steel 
To give it form and shape the point and heel ? 

The arrowmaker must have wrought with care 

From fragment rude the arrow to prepare. 

A single stroke, if carelessl}'- applied, 

Might spoil the shape and break the stone beside. 

One can imagine how a careless stroke 
Might render vain his labor when it broke; 
Nor could he well his rage and anger hide, 
As with a grunt he flung the stone aside. 

No one can tell; no record now is left 
To show the mode in which this gem was cleft 
From parent rock, and then with patient care 
From fragment rude one could this gem prepare. 



392 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

N o tempered tools had he at his command 

To chip the edges with a steady hand, 

Nor pointed steel, else were there remnants found 

Where scattered lie these relics all around. 

Couldst thou but speak, thou gem of Indian art, 
Strange mysteries to us thou couldst impart; 
The hidden secrets of that race of men 
Couldst thou reveal to us in language plain. 

We may surmise, but yet surmise in vain 
How thou wert formed — none can to us explain 
The nature of the tools by which his art 
Was plied to form thee in each perfect part. 

July 20, 1897. 



The Art of Living 



THE problem that confronts us when to get along we try, 
Is how to learn to make ends meet and lay a little by; 
To have a little ready cash against a rainy day 
And leave no unpaid bills behind when we must pass away. 

To be honest in our dealings is to advocate the right 
And strive against dishonesty with all our soul and might; 
It means that we must shun the wrong, whatever that may be, 
And live a moral. Christian life, from all the vices free. 

It is the true foundation in the structure of our lives 
On which to build our character, on which our honor thrives. 
'Tis not the volume of the pile that we can call our own 
That gauges our happiness. It often has been known 



AND OTHER POEMS 393 



That wealth led to unhappiness, and caused the family ties 
To snap asunder in divorce because they were not wise; 
It crowded out the nobler traits in character in those 
Who should have been contented — hence the cause of all their 
woes. 

It is the ruling factor in our politics. They say 

The man that has a barrel-ful can always have his way. 

Far better have a little cash saved for a rainy daj'- 

Than millions to engender strife and drive your peace away. 

And after all, what do we gain when w^e have striven hard 
To save a bulky pile of cash to leave when w^e depart ? 
Name me the rich men of their time five centuries ago — 
They've passed into oblivion with none their names to know. 

Columbus, Newton, Shakespeare and a host of men beside, 
Stand out throughout the centuries, whose names and fame abide. 
The millionaires and magnates of our time must soon give place 
To lasting records of such who outstrip them in the race. 

Perhaps some unknown men now live, engaged with higher 
things 

Than schemes for money-making, which so often trouble brings; 

These princes of the pocket-book must rise and stir betimes 

To count and hoard their millions in these money-making times. 

They put some of their holdings to some high and noble use 
Because the clamors of the crowd they dare not well refuse. 
This shows they are the peoples' slaves, and often must "stand 

pat" 
When politicians come around to fry some of their fat. 

This is the chief good they will do; the evil that it breeds 
Is greed for money- making to supply their craving needs, 
Which never can be satisfied as long as life shall last. 
Though strewn may be their pathway with the victims of the 
past. 



394 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

Be kind unto your neighbor, and to all that you may meet 
At home, when in the study, or when out upon the street; 
A few words kindly spoken, and a smile, may cheer the heart 
Of those who are in sadness from some loved friends to part. 

Such acts will calm the bleeding heart and soothe the troubled 

mind. 
And teaches others in their woe where solace they may find; 
A thin veneer of virtue will in spots soon wear away. 
And expose the damaged structure to the critics of the day. 

The best way how to get along, as near as I can guess, 
Is to earn a little money and to spend a little less; 
Your surplus cash take to the bank against a rainy day, 
And add a little to it when you draw your weekly pay. 

Be sure to keep the balance always on the credit side 
When sickness overtakes 5'ou, that your needs may be supplied; 
Do not buy a thing on credit that you know you cannot pay, 
lycst you may soon regret it when the bills will come your way. 

Be honest in all little things which go to make the dimes. 

The dimes will make the dollars, which come handy, too, at 

times. 
The baker needs the money for the bread and cakes you buy; 
The butcher, for the sausage and the beefsteaks you will fry; 

The grocer, for the sugar and the coffee and the tea. 
And mackerel, and spices, and the lemons — don't you see? 
The printer, for the paper, when he prints you all the news; 
The agent, for insurance, when you paj^ your weekly dues; 

The merchant and the tailor, for the clothing that you wear, 
To patch up damaged garments that he mends for you with care; 
The blacksmith, for the shoeing of the horses that you drive; 
The doctor, for the drugs and pills, that you may live and thrive; 



AND OTHER POEMS 395 



The barber, who will shave you and will cut and trim your hair; 
The jocund, well-fed landlord, who your toddy will prepare; 
The miller, for the flour that he grinds from seasoned wheat. 
With the tithes to pay his labor — although millers sometimes 
cheat; 

The dealer, for the coal you buy to keep from freezing out, 
To fry and cook the victuals that you cannot do without; 
The machinist and the plumber, to replace the bursted pipe; 
The truckman for the green goods when the sugar corn is ripe. 

The tinker, for the tinware and the spouting to renew, 

To patch and mend the leaky roof so water won't drain through; 

The fashionable milliner, the headgear to supply; 

A little ready cash beside, your wife a dress to buj^; 

The farmer, for the milk and for the butter and the cheese; 
The huckster, for the eggs and for the turkeys, ducks and geese; 
The solemn undertaker, who the casket will supply; 
And lastly for the sexton, to inter you when you die. 

The preacher, for the blessing when the last sad rites are said. 
And to entertain the mourners when the festive board is spread — 
To thank the Lord profusely for the bountiful display 
Of good things in the eating line for friends to stow away. 

Then the scramble of the mourners for the money left behind 
Ere the sunrise on the morrow — is the case we often find; 
Then the crafty lawyer comes in for a share of the estate, 
From the pile to be deducted ere the distribution's made. 

Jan. 31, 1904. 



396 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 



The Average Widower 



TT has often been said, and the adage seems true, 
-^ "If the Lord wants a fool, then all He need do 
Is to take away the life of a married man's wife." 

A man that was homely and listless before, 
As soon as his spouse dies will be so no more; 
Chameleon-like changes encompass him o'er. 

Scarce has her frail body been laid in the ground 
And the sexton has leveled and sodded her mound, 
When for a housekeeper he searches around. 

Perhaps some grey locks on his head catch his eye, 
Then to the town barber he timely will hie, 
Who lathers and shaves him and gives him a dye. 

His shoes that had seldom seen blacking before 
Now shine like a mirror, toes, heels and all o'er; 
And the tile that he wears is just new from the store. 

At sales and at picnics he's sure to be found, 
Where widows and maidens in plenty are found, 
And showers side glances on all those around. 

Now a man with a flock of young children to train, 
Must surely have some one his house to maintain, 
To rear up his children, instruct and restrain. 

But a man without children had better refrain 

From hitching himself to a woman again 

For the rest of his lifetime, though great may be the gain. 



AND OTHER POEMS 397 



But here human nature will step in his way, 
To goad him and prod him by night and by day, 
Until on his errand he hastens away. 

Some stately old widow would here fill the bill, 

With her housekeeper's knowledge, her tact and her skill. 

To rear up his flock and his garden to till. 

But ' 'old' ' widows will surely not be to his taste, 
Although they by nature are prudent and chaste; 
To take sack on trial he won't be in haste. 

"Young" widows and maidens for many miles round 

Are hunted and sounded until one is found 

That just suits his purpose to heal his deep wound. 

A young blooming damsel he rather would find. 
By nature endowed with a peaceable mind, 
And in her demeanor both loving and kind. 

Or if a young widow he fain would select, 
With a troop of small children, he cannot expect 
His journey through life would be smooth and direct. 

The one he selects in his house to abide 
In ninety-nine cases will soon be his bride. 
For reasons that cannot be well put aside. 

If a widow with sundry small children to raise, 
A slave she would be for the rest of her days 
Were she to succumb to the widower's ways. 

With three separate flocks of young kids to maintain, 

A troop of young hopefuls to clothe and sustain, 

Strong cause she would have, I should think, to complain. 



398 ONKEL JEFF'S REMINISCENCES OF YOUTH 

'Tis thus the world over; there's always one found 
Quite willing and anxious to heal up his wound, 
And step in the shoes of the one underground. 

Jan. 17, 1900. 



The Broken Chain 



^TpHERE was a chain, 'twas welded in the bonds of hoi}'' love, 
-*~ With links of purest metal from the mines of heaven above; 
The links were all united to form an endless chain 
Around the family altar, there ever to remain. 

The links were strongty welded to form this endless chain. 
But one of them soon parted under rude and heavy strain; 
Another link was broken, when a sister was no more, 
For she passed beyond the River to Canaan's happy shore. 

Another link was broken when a brother passed away. 
To the realms of future glory, to remain to endless day; 
Still another link was broken from this strongly welded chain. 
When a brother died in sore distress, in agony and pain. 

Another link has parted in this strong and heavy chain, 

That had bound us close together in this world of grief and pain; 

Five links have now been broken, but eight links now still 

remain 
To form the family circle of this closely welded chain. 

Their tensile strength is waning in all succeeding years — 
They all will soon be broken in this vale of woe and tears; 
But another chain is forming around the throne above, 
With the broken links united in a bond of heavenly love. 



AND OTHER POEMS 399 



As each separate link is broken in this vale of tears and pain, 
It is wafted gently upward to be welded there again; 
As fast as they are parted with a sigh and with a groan, 
They are all again united in a chain around the throne. 

Soon these links will all be broken in this world of woe and pain, 
But in heaven they'll be united to form an endless chain. 
When linked around the altar they will join the glad refrain, 
With songs of hallelujah for their eternal gain. 

Jan. 15, 1S92. 




INDEX 



PA6E 

A Badge for Every One of Us 9 

ABrother'sTreachery 11 

A Family Gathering 16 

An Amusing Episode During A 

Fourth of July Celebration 19 

A Ivover's Predicament 23 

Anarchists — The Remedy 27 

An Old Boyertown Character Por- 
trayed 29 

An Old-Time Battalion 32 

Another Leak 37 

A Poem on Cattle Ranches 41 

A Rural Kitchen Scene Fifty-Five 

Years Ago 45 

Be Charitable 47 

Be Contented 48 

Bear Your Burdens Lightly 49 

Be Diligent 51 

Bessie's Vow 53 

Black Pete 58 

Black Pete, 01d(wood cut) 62 

Breaking Flax in Olden Time 

(wood cut) 64 

Can You Give Me a Good Reason 

Why? 67 

Centennial Anniversary of Betsy 

Trout 70 

Christmas Eve Sixty Years Ago... 75 

Commonweal Cranks 77 

Daniel Hertzog and His Flying 

Circus 80 

Devil's Hump 83 

Do Not Despair 89 

Double Mount 90 

Echoes of the Fire 92 

Funnel Cakes 96 



PAGE 

Gathering Chestnuts 99 

Gathering Winter Apples 103 

Genovefa 106 

Gone, But Not Forgotten 168 

God Speed the Noble Ship 170 

Hope for Rheumatics 172 

Haymaking in the Olden Time.... 175 

Heinrich Muller and the Masher. 178 

Hermit's Golden Jubilee 181 

Hexerei 186 

Hints Worth Heeding in Selecting 

a Husband 190 

Hints Worth Heeding in Selecting 

a Wife 194 

House Cleaning 197 

How I Practiced to Shoot on the 

Wing 200 

How to Run a Newspaper on 

Promises and Well Wishes 203 

Is Life Worth Living? 206 

Is Marriage a Failure? 210 

Jim's Soliloquy 212 

Joe and Sue's Courtship 215 

Keep Your Eye on the Breakers, 

There's Danger Ahead 219 

Kat, the Arapahoe Squaw 222 

Life' s Journey 23 1 

Life's Sunset 235 

Look Out, There are Spooks About 238 
Lost and Starved to Death in the 

Alleghenies 240 

Lost in the Woods 269 

Luck 272 

Maud at the Seashore 274 

Memorial Day 279 

Midnight Reveries 281 



INDEX — Continued 



Ode to the American Eagle 286 

Oh Where is the Spanish Fleet ? .. 289 

Old Time Coasting 291 

Old Tony's Last Ride (wood cut) 294 

Onkel Jeflf's War Poetry 298 

Only a Few Tears 301 

Only a Tramp 303 

Our Garret 307 

Our Second Childhood 311 

Our Spring House (wood cut) 313 

Our Favorite Shellbark Tree 

(wood cut) 317 

Our New Office 320 

O Where, O Where May Ikey 

Have Gone? 322 

Petition Number Two 325 

Popodickon 328 

Prospect Hill 333 

Reminiscences of Youth 336 

Rock and 1 342 

Rover and 1 346 



Running for Office 349 

Score One for the Babies 352 

She Smelled a Rat 354 

Shining Through the Darkness of 

the Night 357 

Signs and Seasons Discussed in a 

Village Store 359 

Slander 362 

St. Patrick McGlynn Investi- 
gating a Hornet's Nest 363 

Strubel, the Post Rider 366 

Such is Death 369 

Such is Life 371 

Talking in My Sleep 374 

That Lawn of Ours 378 

That Old Tin Box of Mine 386 

That Prize Fight 388 

The Arrowhead 390 

The Art of Living 392 

The Average Widower 396 

The Broken Chain 398 



FEB 13 I905i 



